I am braced for a weekend of intense chappy activities this weekend dear reader.
I am effecting another cultural exchange with the Sultry Journalist - by taking her to a Cricket Match at the Oval. It's only 20/20 so warming her up for the total wonderment and nail biting tension of first class Cricket (5 days of terror!).
I eagerly await her return stroke - I have a terrible sinking feeling it may involve installation art or even worse poetry.
Actually poetry isn't that bad - not this modern beat rubbish - but the sort that requires 18th Century costume and looking consumptive whilst experimenting with horse tranquilizers.
My breath is baited.
She goes her on her way to a function in South London on Saturday……...However, I shall be entertaining some of my loyalest shipmates with Mr Grill.
King Prawns, Squid in turmeric and kilos of sausages shall grace the table.
The fragrant garden will be further enhanced by my inspired dog-ear-scented candles to keep the Bluebottles off the meat.
Sigismund has pointed out that Bluebottles are a good substitute for Moths, should none be available. He has requested I reserve some for his visit, keep them fed in a Jar, which he will take home amend the jar and apply to his sordid purpose.
When fed, we shall attempt to drink the cellar dry, dissuade the others from wearing the lodger's underthings on their heads (calling Tokyo…calling Tokyo…) and collect our urine in a flagon for the amusement of the local constabulary.
The weekend is rounded off by intense avaiting activity and a guided tour of the local Indonesian sitting room.
The Lavatory paper is in the fridge chilling as I type.
She will doubtless be glad of the respite. Might miss the aviating though. I have pictures, and I am NOT afraid to use them…..