This particular interruption, regular but not frequent, starts with a squeaking noise. Not urgent, hurt, frightened or bored, just a melodious chirping. It goes on for a while before I realise that it may be a message for me. I drop whatever I'm doing (the crossword, some needlepoint, guitar practice, watching a horror movie on telly, you know the sort of thing), go into the playroom to find
And she can't get down.
On the grown-up front, Jeremy, who keeps telling me that all his contract work has dried up, and he will now be at home DIYing and looking for a job, keeps getting work. Admittedly we can still never see more than a week ahead, but argh! He has very long list of things to do here at home! The multi-talented man did spend a day last week refitting the larder, which is now positively spacious. (When we moved in here, my mother (jokingly I think) called this 4' x 4' cupboard 'the Filipino maid's room'. I'm now considering doubling the rent.)
We also sadly bid goodbye to Elaine and her family. Apart from the gels with whom I did Latin 'A' level, she's the only person I know who knows who Lars Porsenna is. What am I supposed to do now?
1 comment:
Well, Sylvia is the only person I know with whom Lars Porsenna would come up in conversation. What am I supposed to do now?
Have conducted a survey and Greg and my mother do both know who he is. Dad and his hundred and fifty lambs do not.
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