Things are definitely moving apace…
In a positively downward direction, Dear Reader.
Following the most expensive (crashed the car) picnic in the history of the world, One has now embarked upon a correspondence, well, One’s fictional ‘One’ has, with another fictional character in America. At least I hope he is fictional, otherwise a more disorganised, hopeless person than Lovely One has been discovered. One feels like Captain Cook.
Being trapped in the Underground Lair since Thursday has been v v boring. Not that One would have strayed far but not actually being able to has rendered One pacing the floor in the manner of a caged Tigress.
That makes One sound much more inviting than One actually is doesn’t it, Dear Reader.
In the cat world One is definitely not a Tiger, not even a kitten (sex or otherwise) No, One is a mangy old moggy sniffing around for some desperate old Tom in order to take up residence in his litter box.
The RR has abandoned One. Not an email (106 last week) not a phone call (every day at least one long one, without fail) Even the current Whittakerage has dropped off the radar.
What’s to be done? Shall One spruce up One’s profile (and actual self) and re-launch upon the sea of hoary old gits, or should One retire gracefully into One’s boudoir with a crate of Pinot?