My London day yesterday was smashing.
The old people were on top form and seeing dad attempting a soft shoe shuffle was mind blowing. Mum sat stoney faced as usual before throwing my Chicken korma in the microwave. As you all know mum doesn't cook for me or anyone else but yesterday she surpassed even her own dire housekeeping skills by....leaving it up to me to remove the plastic film on the Korma....Mrs Beeton she ain't.
After we all swallowed our munchies Dad sat down to watch the Snooker and I dragged mum to the shops. "I'm not buying anything today, just looking" we said righteously. Three hours and twenty quid later we dropped our bags on the old carpet and demanded dad get off his bum to make us exhausted old girls a cuppa. He took ages but it was nice when it slopped it down on the coffee table. Tea without cake is unthinkable so they broke into the Mincemeat cake I'd taken up there and jolly good it was too, "Nice and moist" dad said "Has it got cinnamon in, you know I don't like cinnamon?" mum said poking an escaping sultana between her lips.
The snooker was great, I so don't like Stephen Maguire and I so like John Higgins, he reminds me of a young Patrick McGoohan. Tea and cake gone and it was getting near supper time for the old dears so I picked up my bags, told them I'd phone the second I got home and left for my two and a half hour journey home.
Home.
Monty was climbing the walls because I'd been gone for so long, he doesn't love me or anything sickly like that, he just wanted fish. So I fished him up, kissed him because I love him to bits and removed my thermal vest. Supper was a smoked sausage ring and french stick.
Sleep came really quick.
Today I'll fuss over Monty, watch snooker and write.
The picture of me in my best party frock was taken last week.
I'll be wearing it to a Christmas Eve disco, I just hope it doesn't clash with the disco ball!
