My kids are with their dad, Himself’s kids are with their mum, he’s in London
I’m all alone . . .
So I’m not cooking, or even eating. I’m drinking. A rather nice 2005 Monastrell and Pinot Noir Cava as it happens; and listening to The Song Remains the Same VERY LOUD. It reminds of Knebworth (1979) when life was more in-front than behind.
If I lived alone I’d be a thin alcoholic by next Tuesday.
There are worse things I could be I’m sure.
Jimmy Page was my hero – shame he’s fat now, if he’d married me like he was suppose to, he’d be thinner now.
Ho hum.
Still in the words (or something like them) of the indomitable First Nations -
You’re never too old to both flip people off and climb fences (even when a tad tiddly).
