Wednesday 18 June 2008

Gaining a foot to lose a pound

14st 3lb (I found the missing foot from the scales yesterday); an estimated 9.0 units of alcohol; 1,326; M62.

Another day, another bit of spot-on analysis from the Less Tall Cheshire Brunette: “You’re a strange mixture of old codger and juvenile, aren’t you?” she concluded early this morning. I can’t deny it, though in my defence I imagine that much the same could be said of almost any man over the age of about 30.

I delivered on my promise, for once, and tackled the mountain of washing up generated by last night’s dinner party before driving home from Chester in heavy rain that persisted virtually all the way to Scotch Corner. After there things improved considerably and I was able to take the dog for a walk in pleasant sunshine at Beacon Hill, near Longhorsley, before delivering him to the kennels for a few days. I had brought my aunt along with me so as to spread the guilt around a bit, and we were greeted by a woman who asked for the dog’s name, then said, “Oh yes, and it’s Mr and Mrs …?”

I suppose she might have meant that in the sense of son and mother, rather than husband and wife.

Though I doubt it.

Given that my aunt is precisely 30 years older than I am, this did not put me in the sunniest of moods for the rest of the day.

The bad weather caught up with me by the time I got home and devoted myself to unpacking after my trip to Chester, and packing for a completely different trip which starts tomorrow. Sometimes I think that it would be nice just to spend a few days at home, but then I wouldn’t get a lot of world class opera here. And I probably will at Glyndebourne. Fingers crossed.

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