Here we are, Dear Reader, the Wood Nymph and me.
Tonight is the ‘last supper’ no doubt with lashings of Beer and Pinot a’plenty.
What will One do when she is gone?
Who will stink out the coffin-sized kitchen with the stench of burning Extra Virgin Olive Oil, despite One informing her on an almost daily basis that the goodness of the ‘Extra Virgin is lost upon cooking and that it burns at rather a low temperature.’
Who will bung up the plug-holes with all that black hair so that it is quite often possible to fill the bath without the plug in.
AND while we’re on the subject, what on earth will a certain Peer of the Realm do, on his own, in the bath without her.
Surely the opening gambit…
‘I think we should have a bath,’
should pass into folklore as the perfect first date suggestion.
Won’t the floor look bereft without tiny pairs of Doc Martens lined up awaiting tiny feet to stamp off in them to the workshop?
No more the sound of shrieking and laughing whilst chatting in Spanish to her sister Maria (I know, I know, they’re both called Maria, I don’t get it either)
No more tiny little dresses acquired from the charity shop…
‘Eeeet wos onlee threee queeed I don’t beleeeve eeet!’
being paraded with palpable glee and then the image completely ruined by the addition of comedy socks and Doc Martens.
May the pattern of her life continue as it always has…
‘Eating, sleeping and having Sex.’
A v sensible mantra and having had her light shine upon me for the last six months, I am inclined to agree.
Note to a Masterful Gentleman…
I know you aren’t exactly captivated by the tearful female, but you may well have one of your very own tomorrow.