If We Shadows Have Offended

Wednesday, 1st October

Went for lunch with Allaker, my oldest friend from school, who now goes by the name of Sarah-Jane, which I have trouble getting used to.  We met at the Waterfront at one, and hit the ground running, without even saying hello.  At the end of the meal, we decided to share a pud.  I asked for the menu, and, without thinking, ordered a sticky toffee pudding, with two spoons.  'How relaxing to have lunch with someone who knows me so well, she doesn't even have to ask what I want for desert,' she said.  We discussed children, husbands, and why we are so tired all the time.  I suppose because we are in our mid-forties, and keep forgetting.  At the point where we started to discuss the importance of a big cock, a group of businessmen hurried away from the adjacent table.

We popped over to Cake Boy, and I bought two decadent chocolate and fruit tarts, for Xanthe and I to have after supper.  I asked her if she wanted anything,  'That painting,' was the reply.  For a woman who never gave her sweet tooth to the proverbial fairy, that was quite something.

Thursday, 2nd October

I took Xanthe to see A Midsummer Night's Dream, at The Globe.  It was a brilliant production, and we laughed until we stopped.  It's amazing to think that a play, written over 400 years ago, can still be so hysterical today.  Not to mention smutty, leading Xanthe to the conclusion that it had been doctored in some way.  Not at all.  Fluff bought a plague rat hand puppet, and immediately demanded to re-enact the whole honeymoon rat-scenario thing.

She soon became highly proficient at the art of stuffing her hand up a plush rat's bum.  We may have a new Shari Lewis on our hands.  We need to organise ventriloquism lessons.

Friday, 3rd October

Achmed The Dead Rat, (or Willshuck, as Xanthe likes to call it) went to school with her.  I wonder what the teachers will make of it.  We are thinking of working on a script for the pair of them.  Mr Moore has come up with a first line...  Have you heard the latest statistics, they're scary, in London you're never more than two metres away from a human.