Last night Tom and Patrick came over. I bought 8 cans of Guinness and a bottle of vodka. We drank a lot and had a real giggle calling each other names. Oi said I was snoring very loud. She found both Patrick and Tom asleep outside. Patrick threw up. A consistency mainly of yellowy crisps. Tom told me that he hates The Smiths, but I think this is associated with the gay people in the States that he finds annoying and are who in love with group. I think it has to do with knowing England and being in England at the time. To actually live with The Smiths lyrics when life was sitting on a bus every morning going to Alton college and things were generally quite glum. Apart from getting hammered with Rowland and Joel, of course. Oh happy days at The Harrow. I always remember Joel's face giggling and smiling whilst taking a pee in that famous toilet. The cider tasted just as good on my return trip to Blighty last year. Great fun, and Charles and Steve were lovely company. I had fun in the Queens Head in Sheet with Steve too.
A recovery day today and Tom, bless him, always leaves a little present for me to hum away the day in blissful wonder.
Oi and I do a good job of sharing little Grace. Oi is definitly the mother, providing milk and natural love and warmth. Then she needs spells with her wicked and naughty dad, for whisks around the garden and being hurtled through the air at high speeds. Yes, she's quite fearless. I dread the first time one of those pesky red ants gives her a nip.
I started watching Gerald's movie "Police", also with Sophie Marceau and it is totally excellent. You can tell G loves throwing his weight around with the suspects trying to get a confession. Catch it if you can.
I now have in my possession a copy of The Browning Version.
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