SALLY OF FOREST GATE-PART 100-THE LAST AND FINAL PART ! WILL SOMEONE IN CHINA TELL ME WHY THE CHINESE HAVE READ THIS HUNDREDS OF TIMES ?

"SHIRLEY, I'M THINKING OF WRITING MY AUTOBIOGRAPHY !" "DON'T BOTHER !" SHE REPLIED, " NO-ONE WILL READ IT!"

OK! ONE HUNDRED !

THAT'S ENOUGH !

" DAD ! YOU EMBARRASS ME ENOUGH ALREADY ! PLEASE DON'T MAKE THINGS WORSE !"

When I started writing Sally nine months ago I thought I had enough material for about ten Blogs and here we are, NUMBER ONE HUNDRED !

I have insulted almost every minority going and can only apologise to any of the others who had hoped to see themselves villified and haven't read even a word of condescension about themselves !

Believe me, I really hate you anyway, so perhaps you could contact me and tell me some irritating facts about yourselves just in case ! You never know !

And although technology has not yet advanced far enough for you to know what happened between the first eight lines of this momentous occasion and this one, I will tell you to dispel any image you might have of me locking myself away in a cabin at the bottom of the garden for eight hours of undisturbed creativity, sucking away on my corncob pipe, wearing a velvet smoking jacket, swirling a large glass of brandy in one hand and twirling my whiskers with the other as my imagination ran away with itself whilst warming myself in front of a blazing log fire !

I was sitting freezing in our caravan!

THE HOUSEPLANT'S THRIVING DESPITE THE INSIDE TEMPERATURE AS I WRITE !

My loyal readers will know that Shirley swoons from heat exhaustion in any temperature above minus twenty, so I daren't even ask for the heating to be turned on when the place is uncomfortably warm for her at three below!

To stave off hyperthermia I write wearing four jumpers, fingerless gloves like old Steptoe wore and have my double-socked feet resting on a hot water bottle !

I was just thinking, " ONE HUNDRED ! Incredible ! What's been the driving force? How did it really all begin? Am I as funny as I think I am ? How come not a single publishing house has begged for the rights ?

And then just as I decided that I would finish it all with one final go and was waiting for that 'flash' of a theme, Shirley said, " David, if you want your prawn salad ( and that's NOT a euphemism ! Kuh ! You lot really haven't grown up at all have you ? ) there's one job you have to do for me! I can't shift yesterday's baked-on baked potato from the non-stick pan your father bought us thirty eight years ago !"

THIS IS THE ACTUAL SAME TIN THIRTY EIGHT YEARS AGO SHOWING SHIRLEY AS A CHEF AT HER BEST ! I SEEM TO REMEMBER HAVING TO TAKE A CHISEL TO IT THEN !

 I sprung to it immediately with enthusiastic gusto as prawn salads heaped with Thousand Island Dressing are one of Shirley's finest dishes and have prevented me from straying despite many very tempting offers!

Anyway there's nothing a writer likes more than a greasy pan with remnants welded to it to get the imaginative juices flowing !

Well Shirley, like her father wouldn't before her and my mother wouldn't before him, won't throw anything away.....ANYTHING !

 I can't tell you how much fun we have on a winter's evening with no coals burning in the grate when she holds up some paper thin, dreadfully threadbare and holed undergarment for me to guess which year she bought it !

So the 'non-stick' pan that I set about was a round tin with a half inch strip of teflon clinging to a part of it's rim upon which I used my middle finger nail rather than the cold, greasy, grey and half-drowned-looking worn out three year old nylon scouring sponge pad that was waiting for me !

And now, thirty seconds later as I resettle myself I have just been shown my failed attempt which has left traces around the inner ring !

So for anyone still with me, I got the writing bug when I was asked, aged fifteen, if I wanted an American Pen-friend who happened to be a girl and from the centre of the world, Los Angeles !

Well Cilla Uselman and I were soon writing thirty page letters to each other twice a week and this carried on for a year  or two until I got kicked out of school and ran away from home !

WELL! HERE'S A PUZZLE FOR YOU READERS IN LOS ANGELES ! WHERE IS CILLA NOW ?

But that's another story !

Ha! Ha ! Left a chink of light for a future Blog there but I'll need some serious begging from at least one person first !

She lived in California, was incredibly pretty, had an open-topped car and went surfboarding with loads of friends every weekend !

I didn't, wasn't, hadn't and didn't !

So where is Cilla now ? Anyone know ?

And where have the years gone ?

And that's it !

THE END !

Short and sweet as all endings should be !

CAN THIS REALLY BE THE END ?

AND FINALLY ONCE MORE MY FAVOURITE PHOTO OF MY MOTHER WITH ALL FIVE SONS; THE LADY WHO SEWED THE SEED FOR THESE ONE HUNDRED BLOGS, SEEN HERE THOUGH ONLY WITH HER FAVOURITE SON ! HER LAST WORDS TO ME WERE," DAVID,IF YOU EVER WRITE A BLOG, WOULD YOU NAME IT AFTER ME AND DON'T FORGET TO BLANK OUT YOUR BROTHERS' FACES IF YOU PUBLISH A PHOTO ! THE OTHERS HAVE BEEN SUCH A DISAPPOINTMENT TO ME ! ALL MY GOLD, DIAMONDS AND CASH ARE ...ARE...ARE...are...are.. urghhhh................"

"MUM! MUM! MUM ! OH BOLLOCKS !"