Teapot and the VIP club

There are some things that leave you speechless. That kind of jaw dropping inability to utter a sound that comes when you are faced with a shock or surprise, or both, which is so big it short circuits the brain.

So it was this morning when I heard that Teapot has been a secret member of the VIP club for well over a year now. It could be longer for all I know. I should have known something was up with all the calls to That Bobby and the trips to Pacific Nurseries. The chat about Red Poles and the like with one and all on Facebook. The ever growing basket of unironed clothes. The layers of dust looking like the beginnings of a new sandstone strata in the paleozoic era. That alluring look of being lost in thought as she stirs the hourly cuppa.

I blame it on all the trips to France and somewhere in all this is the Grenoble Guru. I am sure he is helping her translate copies of Les Petits Guides des Parasseuses.

So she is now trying to organise a Four Oaks Chapter. I knew something was up during the week when she was deep in conversation with the Glamorous Granny to be. Trying to recruit her no doubt.

Help!