Page 70 - She's One Crazy Lady!

Blobby, blob“
much hilarity. Lesley was a true friend, an excellent teacher and we had such good times both in and out of school – her love of iguanas, keeping a fully grown one in her house, showing her unique sense of humour.
One Mother’s Day we decided to put on an assembly where ‘Miss Marple’ was the guest of honour – there to investigate what made a good mother by interviewing both children and parents. We had briefed a few parents, but not the children. I was Miss Marple. Lesley was a mother, as her son attended the school. Being busy, Lesley and I had not discussed, at length, what we would be wearing. I was dressed in a tweed skirt with brogue shoes, grey short-haired wig, spectacles, cardigan and pearls round my neck – all borrowed. All was going well. I had interviewed two
parents and their children. Enter Lesley – coming through the hall door backwards, dressed as a cleaner with arms full of cleaning supplies, headgear, buckets and a (unlit) cigarette (!) in her hand. Straight-faced she shouted out in a very raucous voice:
blob”
by,
by!
“Come on, I haven’t got all day you know, I’ve got a job to do. What do you want me for any way? Let me get back to my cleaning.” With hands on hips and staring right at me, she puffed on her cigarette and dusted the piano.
She spotted her son, Andrew, and yanked him out, still with a straight face, telling him off for looking so untidy then looked me in the eye. No emotion whatsoever! Miss Marple sadly dissolved into fits of laughter
– as did the entire school and I never did interview her!
Shortly after I left Whitefriars I was invited back to open their Summer Fair. Thinking hats on! What could we get up to this time? Mr Blobby! Mr Blobby would make an appearance – and make his presence known. Yes, I was Mr Blobby, and I got my
revenge on Lesley.
Lesley was a fine pianist and music teacher and had rehearsed
with the school choir to put on a varied selection of musical items to entertain the children and parents. She knew, of course, that I was Mr Blobby because I had got dressed at her house and had travelled to school through the estate, in her Mini, with my left leg and arm hanging out the passenger window, Lesley pressing the horn to make our presence known, shouting out, “Blobby, blobby,
blobby!” to passers-by.
After cajoling guests to partake in a bit of boisterous
country dancing, I hid outside the hall, waiting for the opportunity to pounce and cause as much disruption as I could. A lively song started, and the school choir were in good voice, with Lesley seated
70