Saturday, 21 April 2018

Send food...

parcels and gin.  All hope is lost, taken to the Lost Property Office on platform 4 of 
Waterloo Station.

I have just been bellowing down the phone to my ‘mum’ who is as cantankerous as me.  I would like to say it’s in the genes but we are just pals... I’ve adopted her and to be honest I wish I hadn’t now?  Her independence is to be admired and I do... however her countering my every sensible suggestion, and in all honesty they are so few and far between it is hardly worth mentioning them. Me and sensible don’t really hang well together.  The latest is the phone on the blink.

‘It would be a good idea to get it replaced or report the fault A!’

‘I have the hands free if I need it!’

‘What happens if you have an emergency and the phone doesn’t work?’

‘It’s obvious, I will use the other one!’

‘What in the middle of the night when you have collapsed?’

She has a habit of talking over me all the time, whether this is because she can’t hear or the phone is playing up who knows?

I put the phone down after this conversation and the email pings, it is a friend trying to get through on the phone.
Then the landline goes and I pick up


I fog horn down the phone, the conversation is then conducted at mega decibels from this end because I am in the zone, and the worst thing is I don’t flaming know it... Well that is until now when I collapse in the chair with a sore throat and in dire need of fluid, preferably alcoholic.

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