Bright raiment.

'The Font' was back in London with 'Granny Font' for the night leaving the two boyz and yours truly in charge of the house. This means that I had to deal with the ancient ovens temperamental and life threatening gas rings while Wilf and Digby suffered from a sudden and marked deterioration in their culinary standards . Last night, despite following what were 'fool proof' instructions , the antiquated oven managed to chargrill the pizza. As the two of them crunched on a piece of burnt crust the full horror of the situation was evident in their eyes. At that moment 'The Font' phoned from Chor Bizzare, an Indian restaurant in Albermarle Street, to ask how we were getting on. My description of our progress was met with a sigh.

Madame Bay has arrived this morning to clean the house. Wilf and Digby trotted out to meet her hoping that she might be the bearer of sustenance - disappointed they have now settled down glumly in the courtyard to dream of roast chicken . It must be getting close to Easter - Madame Bay's outfit today is decidedly festive and is conjured out of what appears to be lilac crepe with an offsetting and theatrical burst of cascading orange chiffon . No need for a cup of coffee to wake me up . I am however minded to go and dig out the sun glasses for the summer.

There is an old French Calvinist Easter hymn that talks intriguingly of 'Angels in bright raiments' . In the original French it even more romantically describes the angels as being 'brillant de lumiere' - 'brilliant in light'. Perhaps we have an angel in the house? There again perhaps not. I have just heard what Madame Bay has said as she roots around for a duster in the cleaning cupboard and it's a decidedly unangelic sentiment.