I’ve decided not to tell my beloved that I accidently reversed into his car last night and then, as a result of my surprise, shot forward and hit his new fence. There were mitigating circumstances, I just can’t think what they were and these things do tend to upset him in my experience. And after all, my tow bar was already broken and I’m sure with modern technology, number plates are now overrated. That said, if he looks closely enough, he may just see my registration number emblazoned on his passenger door.
You see that’s the trouble with getting old (and in my case buying a pair of glasses from a dodgy salesmen which look great but actually seem to make my sight worse). Last week I woke up and was alarmed to see that I’d come out in a nasty attack of ringworm on the side of my face. Anything is possible in this house so I took myself sharpish to the doctors, only to be told that I had in fact just slept on a button. And a badly sewn on one at that according to the doctor which I thought was an unnecessary detail. Oh the double humiliation of an ageing skin.
And it also turns out that the man I accused of being a murderer on the train from London because he had the feet of a killer, wrapped in black sacks was actually just wearing special cycling shoes and held a respectable job at the bank. But again, how was I supposed to know that and I don’t think he needed to call security and have me thrown off the train. I mean that was hard to explain to the school when I was late for pick up again! Thank goodness for the presence of a cute puppy to throw the headmistress off the scent (and to blame for eating those “Parent Good Behaviour” forms which I still haven’t signed (8 weeks now and counting- wondering if I can dodge then for a whole year)!
But on that note, I have to leave you my dear Emma because I can smell the sweet smell of another incarcerated meal and the dulcet tones of a husband coming through the door who may have spotted the large dent in his car. This is going to require an awful lot of gin to smooth over and let’s just thank the lord that I changed the password on my (well his) Paypal account before he got home or it could get ugly.