Mr Bob Returns

I spotted Mr bob weeding one of his flower beds, yesterday. He's got a very strange method of weeding. He puts pieces of hardboard around the weed until it is totally surrounded. Then he pours boiling water down the middle. Seems complicated to me, but maybe I ought to try it!

If you are wondering why it's been a bit quiet lately, it's because Mr Bob is on holiday in Somerset. I only know because I was asked to feed Rambo. That's his pet tortoise. I also had to help him load the car. I've heard of people taking everything but the kitchen sink, on holiday, but this takes the biscuit! Mr Bob took a 32" TV on holiday and it wasn't a flat screen either. It took three of us to get it up on the roof rack. His mum wanted to take it to watch the soaps. I didn't think people went on holiday to watch TV!

Ties

I was talking to Mrs Bateman from across the road. She works in the Oxfam shop and said she had a visit from Mr Bob yesterday. Apparently, he was looking for ties. He went through a box of about 40 ties, trying each one on and looking in a mirror they have there. He ended up buying about 25 of them. When he had paid for them, he wouldn't take a bag. Instead, he hung all 25 round his neck and walked off home. I wish I'd seen that!

Socks

I almost forgot to say, yesterday Mr Bob was out hanging washing out to dry on his washing line. Nothing strange with that you might say. Maybe so, but the first thing that stood out for me was that all he hung out was socks. Secondly, every sock was carefully paired on the line, every pair looked different. Also, there were 114 socks. This might be silly and I might be silly for counting them, but that makes 57 pairs. That's like Heinz baked beans always says on the label, 57 varieties. That's probably just a coincidence - I hope! Anyway, I was going to take a photo of the socks, but Mr Bob sat out in the garden all afternoon, until he got up to take the socks of the line, carefully pairing them as he put them in the washing basket. Is this this strange behaviour or is it just my imagination?

Cutting The Grass

It's been very quiet on the Mr Bob front the last few days, but last night, an old favourite event returned. Mr Bob cut the grass for the first time this year. Why is that so strange? It's because it takes him the whole evening to accomplish the feat. He doesn't have a very big lawn and the actual  grass cutting only takes about an hour, but he will insist on trimming the edges by hand. To do this, he gets down on his hands and knees and clips every blade of grass that is out place with kitchen scissors! It's very funny to watch and it takes him forever.

It's Alive!

I was right, Mr Bob's tortoise is alive as I predicted. It was chomping away on some grass and lettuce this morning, enjoying the warm weather. Perhaps now, we can all stop worrying about some mysterious beast lol.

Mr Bob.s Real name

Someone wants to know what Mr Bob's real name is. This came about after he told me he had changed his name to Thatcher but he hadn't. His name is Robert Snortroll. I don't know why we call him Mr Bob. I think that's how it's spelt. I've never heard of it before. I think it might be Swedish, but I'm not sure. I tried looking it up but it translated to something rather unpleasant.

Mr. Bob is out washing his mum's car at this hour of the morning. I think he used too much soap because you can't see the car. It's just a huge mass of bubbles!

Candlelit Vigil

When I got home, yesterday evening, Bob was out in the garden with a load of tea lights placed around the garden. I asked what he was doing and he said it was a candlelit vigil for his tortoise. He asked if I wanted to join in but I declined. "What's happened to your tortoise Bob?" I asked. He said that during the night, a Bigfoot-type creature had come into the garden and stepped on the tortoise, pushing it into the ground and killing it. I asked how he knew it was dead and why he thought a Bigfoot had killed it. He replied that he didn't dare dig it out to check and said he didn't know what else would be heavy enough to push the tortoise into the ground. I know by now that it's pointless to try and argue with Mr Bob about his strange ideas, so I went in and left him to his vigil. I think the tortoise had simply dug himself into the ground to stay warm because it was a bit chilly a couple of nights back.

Wheelie Bins Again!

Today I followed Mr Bob into town (at a distance). This is the day when the wheelie bins are emptied and everybody had put their bins out in the street. As Mr Bob walked past those bins that have faces on them, I could hear him say "hello Mr wheelie bin". Not only was he talking to wheelie bins but he had his mum's trolley bag again!

Mr. Bob has taken his pet tortoise out of hibernation today. He was out in front of his garage, prodding the tortoise with a stick. It didn't look like it was in a hurry to wake up. I think it's still a bit cold myself but I suppose Bob has seen something about it on Blue Peter or something.

Mr. Bob is off down the town - with his mum's trolley bag. No wonder he is single!

Some horrible old woman, with a cigarette hanging out of the mouth, just let her dog do it's business right outside Mr Bob's house. It's a huge pile - you would think a horse did it. You can't believe the nerve of some people. I can see the curtains moving at Mr Bob's. Looks like they saw it too. Now what is he going to do? Watch this space!

I've just spotted Mr Bob, cleaning his windows with a pair of his mum's old knickers.

Forget what I said yesterday about Bob changing his name. I just met his mum in the paper shop and she said it's all a load of rubbish.

I met Mr Bob out by the wheelie bins today, painting tears on the face he's got on his bin. He was very sad and told me that as a mark of respect for Margaret Thatcher, he was changing his name to Bob Thatcher. I just said "ok Bob" and went quickly back indoors.

Mr Bob's Secret Leg

God only knows what the girls in the supermarket would do if Mr. Bob wore short trousers, for he has a secret that even he doesn't want the world to know – his left leg is black. He wasn't born with it but it had gradually turned black when he was about five years old.

Shopping

When Mr. Bob goes shopping, the girls in the supermarket can usually be seen laughing behind their hands. Mr. Bob always has his shirt tails hanging out over his trousers and he wears those old-fashioned shirts with the long tails so it looks even worse. 

Favourite Food

His favourite food nowadays is a Whiskas sandwich, warmed in the microwave. He says you can’t tell the difference from corned beef, except when he gets one of those chewy tubey bits. He got the idea of eating Whiskas from when he played with his cousins when he was young. They used to say that they were going to have Kennomeat stew for dinner. (Kennomeat was or is a brand of dog food.) Anyway, he thought it smelt good when it was cooking and decided to experiment with cat food. 

Favourite Drink

Mr Bob's favourite drink is sherry which he drinks from an egg cup because he hasn't a sherry glass.

Sweden

Mr. Bob was born in Sweden but was thrown out when he was seven for eating snails. He now lives in England with his mum.

How it all began.

I first came across Mr Bob about eight years ago when I moved into the same street. He is a very strange character and I've never met anybody else who comes close to him. He's quite harmless but  he certainly draws a lot of attention. Let me give you a few facts about Mr Bob.