John rocketed into the upper classes at 6.30 this evening when he became the proud owner of a 1970 J registered Triumph Spitfire - a white convertable one. I'm not jealous really because it's not a thing which comes easily to me. (This is supposed to be funny).
At 11.30 this morning Eileen answered the phone and spoke to Fanny Cradock, the deep-voiced lady who cooks on the telly. She asked if she could come in and look at a 1914 file of Yorkshire Posts. Obviously, Eileen said yes, and ten minutes later Fanny was in the library shaking my hand and thanking me for finding the 1914 file for her. She was quite nice really, and not a bit like the bitch you think she is on TV.
John took me to the Hare in the Spitfire at 8, and Caroline, Maria's pal, more or less picked me up. I told her a lie and said I was going out with someone from work, at which she made the classic reply: 'I don't care. It's you I want. I don't mind sharing.' How could I refuse her after that? I find her sexy and sensual, &c, but she's a bitch and she'd like to think I will be crawling after her professing my love.However, I'm determined not to be captivated this time. I said I'd meet her tomorrow, and I'll regret it no doubt.
-==-
No comments:
Post a Comment