Last Day in Latimer

Eddie Izzard started his show with very loud music and lights trained on to the audience. It was very exciting. He started at 8.15, took a small break, then continued until 10.45, or maybe even later.
I cant remember one thing he said but he was rivetting. There was some very funny stuff about giraffes and cows stomachs.
He is very:
Charismatic.
Quick witted
A male.
He may occasionally wear a dress but he thinks like a feller, and I should know I live with one.

In fact the old feller drove us home, we arrived in the freezing cold East Sussex countryside by 1.00a.m.
Watched some recorded capers and fell into bed.
Saturday was all about buying taps for the bathroom and holding hands in Halfords.
We went to a gathering of alternative folk on Saturday night then crept back home. The telly has gone wrong so we could only watch a bit of Stricly….
Sunday we did a very long walk. We both imagined Jackson running alongside us.
There was frost everywhere, the frog spawn field was white and spiky.
The wood yard smelt of freshly shopped oak.
Three donkeys in the pubs field touched me.
Both of us had cried at nonsense all day. Something on the radio, a drumming combo in Tunbridge Wells, elderly people with smiles on their faces as they bashed drums outside the cornish pasty shop and the boy on Stricly Come Dancing who wept because they liked him.
The ‘oosbind doesn’t even like SCD. Jim and I have taken to weeping over everything. Either because we are both degenerating ever so quickly or because we are now, finally, showing our emoticons.
Very good I say although it’s hard on the planet, we use up so many tissues.
We watched ‘Wallander’ with Kenneth Branagh and chirrupped everytime we thought we rocognised something from our youth in Sweden. The author of ‘Wallander’ Henning Mankell is inspirational.
He writes because he has too. He cares because he has too. He feels for the same reason. He hates greed because he does. I fell in love with him.
This morning Jim drove me to TWells station. I took the overland to London Bridge, got off. It was a bad decision. I should have stayed on until Waterloo. So I climbed back onto another train on Platform 6 and got off at Waterloo.
Walked over the walkway to the main line station and took the overland to Clapham Junction.
The flat is a 10 minute walk away.
I smiled.
I liked the air.
It was lovely to be back in London.
Drove to Latimer Road for my last day at LBC Wwestside, then shopped in Wandsworth for tonights supper.;
It’ll be green veg and the daughter.
No, that’s a dangly thingy, I’m not eating her but we’ll chew over some stir-fry and her day.
I’m knackered but blissfully Battersea-ed.
Tomorrow is the beginning of a new era.
Wish me luck.