“Gif me a visky, ginger ale on the side. And don’t be stingy, baby.”

Maybe if I hadn’t drunk so much I wouldn’t have ended up wailing and howling late into the night then waking up surrounded by piles of snotty tissues.

Charley came over for meatballs and in conversation mentioned that his new girlfriend was 14 years younger than me. Gadzooks. There aint no words of wisdom from Greta that are going to help with that.

Maybe a mantra though… “I want peace and peace I will have.”

I keeled over in the library today – a humdinger of a fall which brought five people running to help me up. I decided to go home and watch an afternoon movie to get over it. Luckily “The Man Who Came to Dinner” is on and I can sympathise with Monty Woolley being wheeled around in a bath chair after falling down some steps. Out of the corner of my eye I am watching my ankle swell up to the size of a football.

The hats in this movie are gorgeous. I want a little skating hat with a pom-pom on top.

Charley’s verdict on the meatballs? Too many cornflakes, not enough meat.

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