Mr Not-so-Darcy (the furniture delivery man)
- 0 Comments
- 3 Recommendations
- 23 Views
If it is true that every man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife then it is also true that every odd-jobs man or builder in possession of a toolbox and tape measure must be in want of a cup of tea. And so I discovered when I met Mr Darcy last night. He came into my home by surprise (well, ok, he rang my doorbell) and threw himself upon me (ok, I made that bit up again – he threw some flat-pack cupboards towards me) with a dashing wink and a smile so broad it could light up every theatre in Leicester Square. I will never forget his voice – ‘Ello luv’ and the way he charmed me with his linguistic entanglements and requests for three sugars. And just as quickly he was gone: into the ether on his shining steed (a 1990 Ford Sierra minivan) leaving nothing but a love letter (well, a bill) and his number. Oh how I wish there will be a fault with my cupboards, if only to see his eyes light up once more. Should I call him? Or should I wait?
No one has commented on this post yet. Be the first.
Write a comment