Having been to TOADS to have my hair done, I set off in the drizzle to London Town. The hair stayed in tact. I have to admit to having a stiff neck from trying to keep my head as still as possible.
Annie, one of my oldest friends, sacrificed her gardening to babysit Jackson and Emmy, so I left Sussex with a guilty, though happy heart.
Got to the flat by 2.30, Jim turned up shortly after me. He’d been rehearsing all morning.
The ‘Nearasdamnitson’ turned up an hour later.
In the hour before he arrived Jim and I nipped into Sloane Square to buy him a ‘Tiffany’ bean.
You all know Tiffany’s.
You all know what a bean looks like. Well imagine a bean cast in silver and wrapped in the tourquoise blue packaging that Tiffany’s are renowned for, and there you have it.
We had a little ceremony in the kitchen where we gave the boy his bean and wished him well for the opening.
He then went off with Edge, his long term partner in crime, and Jim and I followed on later.
It’s not over until the fat lady sings
My cheeks are cold. I’ve just taken the old dog out for a run under the crispy brown beech leaves. The chestnuts are rotting, the new crop is sprouting and as I hugged my tree I heard my voice shouting IT’S NOT OVER UNTIL THE FAT LADY SINGS. They’ll ne no joining in for me … Read more