Mrs Scady's Diary
Mrs Scady has kept a diary for as long as I have known her. She says it's personal, not secret, but I have never seen it. Until now. Unbeknown to Mrs S I have discovered where she keeps it hidden and I thought it might be a good idea to share some of her innermost thoughts with a wider audience.
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It might help you understand how her mind works. If it does, please let me know. I've been trying for years without any success. Churchill once said about Russia that it was “like a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma”. Mrs Scady’s mind makes understanding Russia as easy as ABC.
9 April 2025
Scady was an absolute idiot today. Nothing unusual there, he’s an idiot every day but today he surpassed himself. Came back from the pub at lunchtime after a session with his supposed friend Nobby, and told me he was going to be a poet. He said poetry was a con, that any idiot could write a poem and that he had already written his first one on the walk home. I asked him to recite it to me.
“Dearest Mary Ann, My love, my life, my future - Lies on the floor, dead” It’s a Haiku he said. It’s rubbish I told him. The man is an idiot
19 March 2025
Doris and her daughter Esmeralda came over for a coffee and a chat today. Esmerelda was telling us about her particularly well-endowed new boyfriend. I asked her, jokingly, how many notches she had on her bedpost and without a second’s thought she said that it must be close to 100. Unfortunately, Scady came back from the pub at exactly that moment. He was obviously three pints happy and made some stupid comment. I felt so sorry for Doris. She has only had sex once; a one-night stand 32 years ago, with Esmerelda being the result.