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Tuesday, 22 October 2013

In which One is as sour as the dough…

Well, here One is surrounded by boxes of Uncle Bert’s collectibles that are awaiting removal.  Heaven only knows what delights lay festering ‘neath the chariot in the Spare Oooom.

One will be soaking up the silence for a week or two before the arrival of the Aged P. 

What a joy that will be!  One could barely get through today’s telephone conv without wanting to put a pillow over her face just to get her to shut the feck up!

‘Oh hello, what day was that I’m coming?  Who is that woman who’s bringing me? Do you still do painting?’

‘8th November – Mary – No I’ve packed it in and am planning to starve to death.’

That exchange was followed by a detailed list of what would be required at mealtimes, all essential TV viewing and trips out various.

‘I’m not on holiday, so I will be working most days,’ One countered.

Oh joy, Oh bliss  One can’t wait for this!!

Any road up, One has just made Oneself feel Uncle Dick by scoffing a whole bag of Percy Pigs.  One was going to keep just one to be company for One since shall be alone from Thursday onward.  BUT – have begun a jar of sour dough starter that will need feeding every three days, so One has a new companion after all.

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