And drink in the Coach & Horses in Romilly Street and buy shoes at Pied à Terre and socks at Paul Smith and be able to buy Berocca and Hula-Hoops and listen to Radio 4 in real time and watch good telly at literally any time of day or night, and see my pals ALL THE TIME and be able to buy strong ginger beer in cans and drink it when I have a hangover and be miraculously CURED.
Anway. Normal service will be resumed once something interesting happens, e.g. I explain what happens when the pathologist is pushed too far by the noisy neighbours and calls the police.* In the meantime, here are some holiday snaps.
* Not much. The police come, tell them to shut up, and go home. The party stops. The neighbours have an argument. We all go to sleep.
8 comments:
Hula Hoops and Berocca? Interesting combo!
Amazing. But not in the same glass, obv.
It is terribly sweet of you darling, and Dr Slice is a miracle worker with his scalpel and staples, but we can't both be 40.
Welcome home, er, back. Have you see this?
http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/lostinshowbiz/2010/feb/22/sting-uzbekistan
Super pictures. There is no Berroca in Canada. That is not okay. I wonder, do they have Emergen-Cs, which are also wonderful? They are so cheap in U.S and so expensive/non existent in U.K./CH.
Glad you enjoyed your trip, and celebrations. My own mother's birthday was last Tuesday. or last Monday. Her birth certificate says one thing but her own mother told her it was wrong. Mothers can be so mysterious and wiley.
"Tombstone of the Month" hilarious!
I wish our local newspaper had Tombstone of the Month feature. Old tombstones are very interesting.
Dear Monkeymother,
I hope you had a very happy birthday!
Your remark reminds me of an anecdote. It concerns, I think, Lillian Lux, matriarch of the New York Yiddish performing family the Bursteins (whose hits included The Megillah of Itzik Manger and A Khasene in Shtetl).
Apparently Lillian (if it is she, and I think it is) became ill and retired from the stage for some years. When she made her comeback a journalist sent to interview her asked her how old she was. “I’m 65,” she said.
“That’s funny,” said the reporter. “I interviewed your son last week and he told me he was 55!”
“Eh!” she said. “He has his life, I have mine.”
And dear NWM, I would say "welcome back" to the Canadia, if I did not really wish you were still over here.
Post a Comment