“Summer” of lurve

July 4, 2013

Mrs M is quite something. Or, rather, was something. Not, I hasten to add, that she has moved on to that great chintz-curtained parlour in the sky. Oh no, she is still with us, very much so. It’s just that she and I are no longer, as they say in celebrity circles, involuntarily making that very uncool double fingered two handed quote marks in the air gesture, An Item.

And why, I hear you ask, out there in Blogland, are you writing about it now?Surely, you aver, with all the cynicism of the innocent bystander, that is singularly ungallant? Well…yes it is. And While we were together, I really had better things to do. Much better. If I’m feeling even less gallant tomorrow, I’ll tell you more.


Twists and turns

April 1, 2013

Magnus has redeemed himself. Well, up to a point. What I mean is, he’s made a pretty good job of retailing the bathroom, painting my living room an interesting shade of mustard (‘the paint shop made a mistake, Dad. Simples.’

Hearing him talking like a made-up meerkat puppet bothers me a bit, but as I had the original idea, even though it was for a breakfast cereal ad, I suppose I can’t complain too much.)

No, the real problem was that I had to move out. ‘There’s no room for you,me and the paint pots, Dad.’

Hmmm. Simples indeed. Still, as I am working in Basingstoke on a secret project, the positives were (a) I could walk to work (b) I could get a lot of reading done – I’ve finally finished Ulysses, and trust me, if you get the opportunity, don’t bother and (c) I made the acquaintance of Mrs McQuorquodale .

Now, Mrs M (her first name is Roberta, but somehow, I’ll always think of her as Mrs M, or sometimes Mrs McCrocodile, for reasons which should become apparent) is a lady of a certain age. If I told you she once dated Donovan, I think if you’re my age, you’d have a picture of her already. I don’t know what became of mr Q, but judging by what I know of her, it may have been a sticky end. More later…