20th August
Corporal MacCockup more like, the poor girl was devastated at being missed orf your previous missive old boy. Caruthers is orf down there now to comfort her and console her. You know, I can’t help but wonder why he was so keen to miss out on a quick sortie and buzz a few Gerry before morning coffee, rather strange that, I’m sure he must feel in some way responsible for your omission.
Now Corporal, to business! A bit of bunker work you say, now just checking on the old diary reveals one or two nasty stains on the page, is that anything to do with you? Damned near stuck the pages together! This weekend, old chap, appears to be taken with paternal duties so there’s a bit of an impasse on that one I’m afraid old boy. Now next week, on the Friday I have a funeral to attend in Essex, if it’s mine then no-one’s told me yet but I don’t know what time I will be home. Saturday is looking likely at the moment, so bookings taken for that one if required. Going to have to go old boy the Colonel is approaching and he looks to be in a frightful stew over something. Perhaps the cling film over the lavatory wheeze was a bit misplaced after it turned out that Carstairs had already laced the blighters breakfast with laxative.
Got to go old boy; need to make myself scarce. You know how it is.
Carruthers
About Me
- The Majors Diary
- The weekly diary of a post war major in the south of England detailing the exploits and accidents of one Lance Corporal Carruthers. A man who could, single handedly, undermine the allied attempts to defeat the German military might, destabilize the entire German empire and destroy the ruddie Ruskies by turning the cold war boiling hot. And all with the aid of an ageing tank and a certain level of genius in confusion.
Preface
Carruthers was born from a series of nonesense e-mails between me, the author and creator of Carruthers, known by some as Adrian and a good friend of mine who runs a hotel nearby.
I was in Devizes during one of the annual summer festivals, where otherwise sane people throw caution to the wind and do their very best to prove themselves cool and trendy, whilst appearing to the world as just another embarrassing fifty something who really ought to know better. (I speak with some authority in this matter as a permanently embarrassing fifty year old who refuses to grow up, according to my long suffering children!) When strains of jazz music were to be heard drifting up from a door to the cellars of the big hotel in the Market Place. Being surrounded by a cacophony of noise, the rythm and melody from just the one singer and band competing with nothing other than the cash register at the bar seemed a perfect way of escaping. Plus, the door into that cellar had always intrigued me! Having descended into the half light it appeared that the band, who until only a moment before had been singing their little hearts out, were now packing up and going home! Had they somehow heard of me before??? The cellar was to become the new live music venue in Devizes with only Jazz and Blues being played and with only bands of a certain calibre. Being a fan of live music generally and Jazz in particular and not unfamiliar with the workings of a bar from either side, I thought that to offer my services to the unsuspecting owner for the ‘odd shift’, (those describing themselves as normal obviously needed to attend other evenings) would be a good way of listening to decent music, getting cheap beer and getting paid for it! Result! He agreed and I began working every other weekend in The Cellar Bar, Devizes’ newest venue for good music. Being of a similar humour, the owner, Andrew, and I became friends and began communicating as Basil and Manuel in our e-mails although it does become quite hard to write with a Spanish accent! After a while I got bored with these two character and whilst trying to relieve that boredom Carruthers was born! What started out as sillyness gradually grew and Andrew encouraged me to save these e-mails, which I resisted at first but when I started getting enquiries from others who had recieved the forwarded e-mails I had sent to Andrew asking when the next one was coming out and asking if I would send them on to them direct, I began compiling the diaries. You will notice that the first few diary entries still resemble just an e-mail and then take on a very different purpose as I explore the deeper creative recesses of my mind. Any recess of my mind is terrifying, so steel yourselves and enjoy The Major’s Diary.
Adrian
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