hanging by a thread.
The thread is
Audrey.
Audrey is now in a care home which she constantly calls rehab. Every time she says it Amy Winehouse springs to mind. Sadly she has lost the plot.
She FaceTimes me numerous times a day if only to say she can’t hear.
After my voice rises to levels a foghorn would be proud I fall back into my recliner only for another call to ping in.
Limbering up I stretch the vocal chords in readiness for me to forecast that there is fog on Dogger Bank.
