Silly Soapy

While sitting at my desk this morning, a bright yellow Volkswagen decorated with personified blueberries and bearing the legend . . .SILLY SOAPY, LADY CLOWN . . .parked outside my window. A very glamorous and decidedly unsilly woman continued to bend over in front of me and pluck her child out of the back seat. Since when did clowns, male or female, have a fantastic ass and great legs? The world of slap-stick has finally gone mad.
I was meant to be on the wagon today. I think I will wait until the first of November
.A year ago today, we acquired a lovely five month old bitch from the dog rescue centre. One of my main selling points to my wife was that I would take her to training classes as soon as possible. Tonight was our first class. It was exhausting. Arrived home two hours later had a quick cup of tea and off down the-worst-pub. It was empty apart from O’Donnell, John and Tony Blackburn at the smoking-table and about twenty staff all sipping drinks very slowly. Tony Blackburn had had a few and, as ever, was the expert on every subject that he or the other two brought up. I was stone cold sober at half past nine when the land-lady, who has three weeks left in the job, told us that last orders would be at nine forty due to a staff meeting! “We are all going to have a chat then a lot of drinks.” Who is this pub meant to be open for???
On a plus side . . . I was worrying that I only had the foreshortened evening ahead and tomorrow night until I am on the wagon when my mobile vibrated in my pocket. It was Walt, my saviour; did I fancy a drink in the good-pub on Wednesday night? So, the wagon on Thursday it is, indeed. And that’s the way it is.