14st 6lb; 5.0 units of alcohol; 1.427; housebound.
A day of high winds and lashing rain on which the most exciting thing I did was eating for my lunch an M&S ready meal that was two days past its use-by date. It was quite a comedown from Newcastle’s very own version of The Ivy, with its entrancingly beautiful girl on the next table and its erotically wobbling rhubarb jellies for dessert. Eventually. But on the other hand it gave me the same sort of buzz as any successful gamble, when I got through the day without having to make an Olympic-contending sprint for the lavatory.
I’d been looking forward to an evening in front of the television, watching the programmes I had recorded while I was out at the theatre during the week. But a bizarre malfunction of my DVD recorder meant that they had been captured only in black and white. I have a long debate with myself on whether watching Coronation Street in this format would lend it some special period charm, but eventually opted for catching the omnibus edition tomorrow instead. With this crucial issue resolved, I was able to settle back with a two-week-old edition of Ashes to Ashes to explore the crucial question surrounding Keeley Hawes in her tapered 1980s jeans: does your bum look big in this? No true gentleman could possibly publish the answer.
The amazingly unlikely true story of how a grumpy old man and lifelong bachelor won the love of a beautiful young woman and started a family – and all by writing a curmudgeonly blog about his lonely journey to the grave.
Now who would have predicted that?
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