How come they've switched us? We were supposed to have the 7.30PM class, but no, the macramé group has bounced us to the 11 AM slot. Do they not realise we have a business to run? Obviously the adult education department has no idea what that involves.

Flowers don't just jump off vans and cut four inches off their bodies whilst simultaneously turning on taps and filling buckets you know. Nor do they dive into the self cleaned buckets, arrange themselves divinely in colour co-ordinated groups and, once mauled by a prospective buyer, pirouette into dazzling arrangements, float across to the till and hand out change.

I knew this was a mistake. Baleesha is bickering already. Well huffing and throwing her shoulders out of alignment, which is her idea of body language bickering.

'Don't shrug at me like that. It was your idea. Remember? It's hardly my fault your period is due and you failed to pull in the market.'

'I didn't realise they were going to change us to a morning class! And not even J-Lo could have pulled in your disgusting jumper.'

We've got ten minutes to get flowers to the undertakers, drop off a bride's bouquet and make sure the rest of the team can cope without us for two hours. They can, consummately, but it makes us feel better if we panic a bit.

'What are you doing?' Baleesha is stuffing florist's wires into her workbox.

'I thought I'd start off with basic wiring techniques.'

'Basic wiring techniques? Basic scissor holding techniques will be more than they can cope with!'

She looks hurt but it's difficult to tell it could just be a sulk coming on.

'Baleesha don't you think you should teach them how to cut the bl***dy flowers before playing the generation game?'

'Have you got the business plan sorted then?'

Ouch that hurt. She knows I haven't. She knows I don't even know what a business plan is.

'Yes Of course I have. I'll just tell them they all need a 'Michael'. Well it doesn't have to be a Michael it could be a Betty or a Paul even.'

'What are you wittering on about? Michael is your financial director.'

'Exactly. All they have to do is find someone who knows something about finance, like our Michael does, and hand it over to them... simple. They're going to have to have an accountant at some stage, if they get one early they can let them sort out the business plan while they have lots of sleep and alcohol.'

(Sleep and alcohol being the staff of life to owners of flower shops who never have enough of the former and indulge in far too much of the latter.)

Even I doubt that this dubious tack will fill the first hour of our class. I don't need her look of contempt for confirmation. Perhaps I should take a bottle of Chardonay and some nibbles and we could use it as a 'getting to know you' exercise. With any luck there will only be seven people and we can write the whole thing off as a 'should never have even tried' experience. Oh good one cold bottle left.

'Put it back.'

I really hate her.

'Come on we're late. I think you should do the explaining what scissors are for bit and I'll do the business plan. This is going to be a disaster.'

'I told you that!'

I am honoured though... she thinks I can do the explaining what scissors are for bit. Perhaps I have finally earned a modicum of respect... OK it may not be 'you can show them how to do the brides' bouquet', but it's a start. Hold on she can't do the business plan. We only have two hours. If I let her do the business plan it will take up the whole term and they still won't understand a word. Best take the Chardonay, they'll need it and if they don't... I will.

There are only seven. We won't have to run the course. Seven, seven, seven, the magnificent seven, my heart sings.

Who the bl***y h**l is that? It can't be? Oh no it is. Hapless Hannah, the only Saturday girl we have ever sacked and you have to be several degrees below useless to get sacked from our shop... with four friends! Perhaps they don't realise the macramé course has been changed?

They haven't come for the macramé course.

The job centre has sent them here for re-training. Why couldn't they have put them on the catering course? Hannah breaks everything she touches, she would be an excellent omelette maker, she might even manage to hang herself in the macramé class; she doesn't belong in mine.

It would seem she does.

'Hello Baleesha, me 'n me friends are coming on this course.' She knows better than to look at me... 'Me 'n me friends'... says it all.

Can't put it off any longer.

'Right. Hello everyone and welcome to the class. Now if you'd all like to give Baleesha your names.'

I might have just enough time to figure out exactly what we've let ourselves in for. She is so efficient is Baleesha it's a joy to behold. Look at her - she's brought a notepad, as if they haven't filled in enough forms already. I wonder if I could just open the bottle and have a quick swig?

Excuse me I haven't even moved... don't look at me like that! I was not going to have a drink OK? Just take their names. I swear she's an alien sent here to spy on me and ruin my life.

Where did I put their application forms? Who are these twelve disciples that haven't a hope of making it to the last supper? Is self-crucifixion possible?

OK there's Hannah. Bone idle, no talent, less charm and completely witless. Perhaps I should do the explaining what to do with scissors bit. I could stab her... several times... fatally. Best split them into two groups. Baleesha can have Hannah and her job centre rejects.

Let's see there's Merv, who looks more suited to bouncing than to bridal bouquets. He'll fit in well with the market boys, them of the words of two syllables. He might even make quite a decent porter he looks strong enough.

'Mind yer backs' as he crashes his ten-foot trolley into the only advancing customer. Can't see him in charge of a flower emporium though; can't imagine him pronouncing 'emporium'. 'Flah stall' he might just manage. Wonder what he's like at getting up at three AM?

Then there are Emma and Sylvie. Mmmm obvious candidates for the pregnancy over paperwork party and, judging by the way that they are eyeing up Merv's pecs, well on their way to realising their ambitions before half term; that's if Baleesha doesn't beat them to it. She's flirting with him. Baleesha put him down you can't begin to imagine where he's been and you certainly don't want to join him. Mind you Merv looks quite capable of accommodating all three with minimal mental effort.

Who's the odd one out? Howard the anorak, well he seems quite quiet but surely he'd be far happier on an intermediate computer course. Oh no, he's got his eye on Merv as well. Still if he's gay he could be artistic, he may be the solitary success story.

They need one more. Who can I lob over from the other side?
Jennifer Hill-Higgins, lady who lunches. I know her I've seen her in the shop. Two kids, four by four, season ticket to the beauty parlour and lover of weekends in Dubai. I'll give her two weeks max. Don't think she'll have a lot in common with Hannah though, lovely nails. Oh look she's spotted our Merv. Do I detect a little flush on your cheek Mrs Hill-Higgins? Forget it, we don't need to be called as witnesses in divorce proceedings. Ten to one you're married to a lawyer.

Anna and Louise, early twenties, both trained florists who are hoping to set up a shop together. Well at least they are serious... fairly serious about each other too by the look of it... Lucky break there eh Merv? No I can't split them - they could be good and Anna's bigger than I am. I don't need her on my case as well as Baleesha. Besides they're Belgian (There's bound to be a Belgian discrimination clause somewhere in our contract) and Louise doesn't speak English... hold on, Louise doesn't speak English? Why is she on this course? She won't understand a thing. Baleesha speaks at warp factor four and my Flemish is bordering futile. Surely a Basic English course would be more appropriate? Hannah could join her she's more than a little challenged in the fundamental grasp of native tongue department.

Sister Agnes? What is she doing here? The singing penguin and arranger of flowers for the chapel of the Holy sisters. Sister Agnes who cons more freebies from flower shops than there are bulbs in Holland. This is supposed to be a course for people who want to set up a flower business. I'm sure the Pope would never approve of this flirtation with commerce dear Sister. Oh no she's waving at me.

'Hello Sister Agnes, nice to see you.'

'And God bless you for having me.'

I could well do without it if sending you here is his idea of a blessing.

That leaves those two. Cashmere coats and shoes from Browns if I'm not mistaken, I'll check with Baleesha - she'll know. What are they doing here? Jim Miller and Dimitri Tzekos, they want to be florists... right and I'm going to win the lottery. There are easier ways of making money you know. Not that they look as though they need to, make money that is. They could probably buy a chain of flower shops... supermarkets even. Think about it boys... your own on-tap flower supply, the waste is horrendous but with the profit you make on the baked beans you'll hardly notice. Why don't you stop wasting my time and take Mrs Jennifer Hill-Higgins to Dubai. On second thoughts take Hannah to Dubai... sell her into slavery... please. That's it! They're drug smugglers! They've got to be. They're setting up a chain of flower shops as a front for a money laundering, drug smuggling, arms running, and flesh peddling empire in the South East... well it has been known. We run a clean ship here I'll have you know Mr Miller and Mr Tzekos... shan't be offering them any of the Chardonay.

Looks like Sister Agnes gets the short straw, still she may dissuade Emma and Sylvie from marching to maternity.

'Are you going to start or what?' Baleesha hisses as only Baleesha can.

I feel sick. I never was any good at public speaking.

'Well that didn't go too badly did it?' I feel quite smug.

'Oh no it was great! Especially when you told Jennifer Hill-Higgins that, even if she wore gloves, flower thorns, bleach, compost and stress would conspire to relieve her of both them and her beautiful nails.'

'I did say that the beauty parlour could put falsies on if she was going out, besides she will lose her nails. Name one florist you know who has nails?'

I love it when I'm right but Baleesha isn't finished.

'Yes but did you have to tell them about the market food and that they will have to get up at three AM for their foreseeable future? Or that they will have no clothes worth socialising in because everything they possess will be ruined by bleach, spray paint and morsels of food eaten on the run? Oh and they won't have time to even consider a shopping experience... and even if they did they wouldn't have anything to wear?'

'Did I lie?'

'We're supposed to be encouraging them! Teaching them even. Was it really necessary to go into irritable bowel syndrome at such length, they might not all get it.'

She catches my heavenward glance.

'All right they will all get it, and they'll get scissor calluses but do they have to learn about this in their first lesson?'

'I told them to write things down in their books for future reference.'

'Oh right. That'll be 'funky', 'cool', 'sexy' and, 'to die for' and what did you say they were? 'Greatly overused words in the flower trade but you'd best write them down because it's always good to feel part of the gang'. You are the worst teacher I have ever met! We won't have anyone in the class next week!'

I feel a huge weight lifting from my shoulders. No more classes, no more Hannah!

'Well at least we won't have to put up with the drug smugglers.'

'What are you talking about? What drug smugglers?'

'Jim Miller and Dimitri Tzekos, the cashmere twins. There is no way those two intend to set up a flower shop. They've got to be drug smugglers.'

Baleesha affords me one of her most special witheringly contemptuous looks the kind she reserves for moments of absolute superior triumph.

'They are not drug smugglers. They met in Greece four years ago, ran a bar for a while and then came over here. Dimitri's father is in shipping and he is putting up the money for the flower shop.'

How does she know so much?

'Oh and they're gay.'

Well that explains the good dress sense.

'So we've got two gay couples then? Jim and Dimitri and Anna and Louise.'

'Anna and Louise are sisters.'

Now that's just ridiculous! Anna and Louise make tactile look like a verb. How come Baleesha knows so much about them anyway?

'They can't be sisters they've got different surnames.'

'Not only are you an appalling teacher, you also lack any kind of listening or observation skills. Do you realise you wouldn't have a business if it wasn't for me? Anna for your information is married to an Englishman and they have two children. Louise is engaged to his best friend who happens to be an Arsenal fan.'

I knew bl***y football would rear its mucky boots at some point.

'So what's with all the touchy feely bit?'

'They're Belgian.'

Oh but of course that explains it all. Silly me. Perhaps I should just stab myself.

'Europeans are far less uptight than we are about being tactile. And don't think you can get out of next week because, apart from the war you've declared on Jennifer Hill-Higgins, for some bizarre reason the others seem to like your alternative teaching technique, if you can call talking absolute b******s technique.'

I didn't do too badly then 'absolute b******s' from Baleesha is praise indeed.

'Fancy a glass of Chardonay?'

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