Three weeks to go and Yalding Bridge is still in a mess.
It seems the Gas Board have hit some unexpected snags like finding the gas main isn’t where they thought it was and the whole damn thing could take a further four weeks to sort out.
Mrs. Flagg has lost so much weight as a result of her three mile detour and is getting to work so exhausted we’re beginning to worry about her abilities as chief bouncer and may revisit this at a later date.
At last I managed to see Mr. Biggins.
He was climbing out of his store room window after realising he had an appointment to see me but fortunately as I was early I was able to call to him as I approached the club.
The internal decoration for the big night has been finalised and the red noses and moustaches have been jettisoned in favour of glasses and beards.
All that remains now is the formulisation of the menu which Mr. Biggins says will be so good it will make your eyes pop out.
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