Carole: called me 'Peter' |
The four of us went to Neville's. Carole immediately got off to a lousy start. On to the Craven Heifer. Sat like morons. She infuriates me by repeatedly asking: "what's the matter?" And I infuriate her by replying: "what do you mean by what's the matter?" Silly, eh? Naomi too isn't all that better - sitting like a High Court judge - a real bundle of fun.
From the Craven Heifer it was obvious that if Naomi were to go to Oakwood Hall the strain would probably kill her and so it was back to Martyn's for coffee (his mama and papa are holidaying).
We summoned a priest to administer the last rites to Naomi but he arrived too late. Carole spilt hot coffee all over her foliage (sic) and I gave up my shirt for her and wore one of Martyn's. We both had a gin and attempted some conversation. I was so glad that Martyn was in the room to hear it because I thought it was me who was going insane. We are just incompatible. Every sentence ends in a dispute. Carole asks: "Michael, why do we hate each other so much?" I don't hate her one bit. She just cannot be happy with me. Sipping the gin she called me 'Peter'. Martyn found this hilarious and kept mentioning the weather saying we might be having a 'foggy' start in the morning. (You know, FOGarty. Ha Ha).
The girls went home at 12.30 and Martyn and I went on to Il Trovarore which lived up to its usual standard. Back to Martyn's £3 later. Slept in the spare room - soundly.
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