Five years of My Friend Rosey!

It’s hard to believe that five years have passed since I first introduced you to my friend Rosey. During that time she’s acquired an allotment, got through a selection of totally unsuitable boyfriends, and even done six months voluntary work in an African school. I’ve actually written about fifty or so of the calamitous situations she’s found herself in. I've given her a dedicated website and even published a book! Throughout all this, she has allowed me to make good humoured fun of her roller coaster life, and is always the first to raise a smile when she reads my stories, which I must admit are sometimes slightly exaggerated for maximum effect! I thought you might like to read the first event I wrote about back in January 2008. Here goes!

My friend Rosey recently felt the need to clear out her kitchen cupboards. She often had these urges after a glass of wine or three! Rummaging through the piles of out-of-date packages and bags she came across a shelf crammed with canned food which she felt was surplice to requirements. An hour later she had amassed a considerable amount of rubbish – too much to cram into her diminutive garbage bin. The obvious solution was a bonfire! So after setting alight a pile of paper and wood she placed the kitchen rubbish amid the flames then retired to her newly emptied kitchen for a celebratory libation.

As she relaxed glass in hand, she was suddenly jolted to her senses by what sounded like rapid gunfire! Rushing outside to see what was happening she found herself gazing in amazement at the side of her house which was completely plastered with baked beans, sliced peaches and marrow-fat peas!

I was looking through the hundreds of comments my tales have received, and the one which received the largest number was story about a cycling misadventure. This was it.

My friend Rosey was cycling along, minding her own business, when an elderly lady staggered into her path. Rosey swerved to avoid her and as result got into an uncontrollable wobble just as she was about to descend a steep hill. An approaching motorist was forced to take avoiding action which startled a passing pedestrian whose enormous dog dragged him into the bushes. Rosey continued downhill unable to stop. She tried using her feet to assist her brakes, and the metal studs on her heels sent a shower of sparks flying out behind. A drunk on a bench dropped his can, and rubbed his bleary eyes convinced he was witnessing an alien landing.

Still unable to stop, Rosey hit the kerb and somersaulted over the handlebars landing in a flower bed which was being sprayed with water by a gardener. He quickly turned the hose away, and showered a young family who were, until then, enjoying a peaceful picnic in the park. Rosey grabbed her hat, adjusted her muddy jeans and scrambled off to retrieve her bicycle from where it landed in the duck pond. Unfazed by the assembled crowd which looked on open mouthed, some dripping wet, she mounted her cycle and tried to make as dignified an exit as she could.

Unfortunately the front wheel, once round, was now egg shaped and although it still went round, it caused Rosey to bob up and down as she set off down the road. Once again the hill took control, and Rosey found herself travelling at breakneck speed with brakes which no longer functioned. Up down, up down, up down.

And then it happened. She rounded a corner and there in front of her was a truck with its tailgate down forming a ramp - up which Rosey shot! She found herself her in the middle of a stack of open black sacks filled to overflowing with waste food on its way to the pig farm. Rosey never got over the events of that day. She never cycled again, and she gave up bacon.