Honestly how many more times will OFT come into the kitchen for a cup of coffee? Only 11am a been in a staggering 4 times already. Why can’t he stay outside in the garden? Or lurk in his bloody office? He has already watered geraniums copiously I suppose, one leg up on flower box , hose at hip level – looks like he’s peeing – but is now sitting on the sofa on this gorgrous day with his sodding iphone!. I have retired upstairs, with a deep sigh to the dark of bedroom, to me maquiller. This house – capacious as it is- just aint big enough for the both of us now he is not working. (Nor am I due to recovery from hip) result: way too much together time.
If he comes up to the bedroom I swear will stuff my fist in my face and scream .. inwardly of course.
Thank God my divine hairdresser has just called offering a cancellation for tomorrow. A glorious session beckons. A high octane blend of sophistication, gossip and gayness with a smattering of life coaching thrown in. Who is coaching who- client or customer I am as yet unsure. Oh and the massage chair and of course the highlights. Only thing is never know how
much tip down here in the sticks. Unsure who to ask.
The River Files 