We were three for supper, Dear Reader. Lovely One, Lovely Gordon and Funny, Clever C (FCC)
One’s invitation came suddenly and One dropped everything and shot up the passage gleefully.
Well, I say ‘invitation’ and use the word loosely…
‘Supper tonight, you bring the pud, you’re meeting FCC, you’ll love each other,’ brrrrrrrrrr
Later on, One having been practically manacled to One’s easel all fecking day by the WN…
‘Get on with eeet Wooooman! You heven’t done anything for three fooking weeeks, and noooo I don’t want to seee eeet until eeets finished!’
(it being another panoramic view of Brixham)
And there she sat, regarding One from the sofa that One is minding for One’s chum, brandishing a 10mm easy-grip, knitting a desk. (don’t ask!)
One sheared at around six thirty to LG’s gaff and the WN shot off with a bath bomb, a crate of beer and an evil glint in her eye. (Heaven help the young Peer of the Realm tonight, Dear Reader!)
FCC was a divine confection in the shape of an old student of LG’s who is now Head Boy of Colouring In at the local Art College.
Individual washing-up bowls of Chateau Waitrose were doled out upon arrival and nibbles appeared which we fell upon with gusto, having been present at a ‘7.00pm for 7.30pm’ supper before, that arrived at 11.24pm when we were rat-arsed and starving!
‘I made this casserole three weeks ago and put it in the coldest part of my second best fridge,’ announced LG.
A wave of anxiety crested over the assembled throng, but FCC assured One that he’d flung in the neck-end of a bottle of bacteria-banishing Rioja.
Any road up, to the ever present thrum of the Baumatic (laundering shreddies singular) we sat down (One always gets the Eames chair) and manfully inhaled the botulism surprise.
‘I don’t know how I’m going to get up in the morning,’ opined LG beating a path through the foliage up his passage to see One to the gate.
‘You don’t know, hic!’ shrieked One, ‘ I doubt I shall live until sunrise!’
We mwa-mwa-ed in the passage and agreed to do it all again at JJ’s studio opening party on Friday night, when hopefully One will be sporting a rather divine, clever, amusing and throbbingly attractive gentleman on One’s arm…