I remembered last night that I’d been phoned a couple of days ago by someone wanting me to write to someone else (yes, that’s the sort of thing I do) and I’d written down the name and address but actually it wasn’t the most convenient time. So I left it until *later* and totes forgot, darlings. Fortunately, I remembered again, because I hadn’t yet emptied the waste paper baskets. So, while filling them with odds and sods, I warned the Sage against binning anything before I’d found this wretched piece of paper.
Turned out I’d put it in a sensible place and not in the waste paper basket at all. I wasn’t a bit surprised, honestly, but there’s never any harm in taking precautions.
It’s worryingly clean and tidy in here at the moment, apart from my computer and one – yes, darlings, only one so it’s quite all right – of the printers. And the Sage’s stuff, but he’s impossible so has to be shown every indulgence. And, talking of every indulgence – well, the Sage occasionally gives a brilliant present but usually it’s rubbish. Last year, for instance, he paid the bill for my iPhone, £140. It was just a credit card bill, I’d already bought it and over the year I pay rather more in monthly fees. I spent £500 on him. And I wrapped the present and gave it to him. He gave me nothing on the day. Bitter? Well, frankly yes, but I’m also sensible, so I went out and bought some clothes and told him how much I’d spent and he gave me the money. He also suggested I might wrap them, but I – no loves, I was perfectly polite. I just gave him wrapping paper and sticky tape.
Oh, and the Sage looked out to show my friend Mary, who took me out to lunch today, a picture of me from 1963. It’s also got my good friend Lynn, who is the only person I’ve never lost touch with (a few more I’ve regained touch with, but Lynn and I have been stalwart and I’m godmother to her daughter) and other erstwhile good friend, but with whom I’m not in touch, Angela. And after that, I’ll have to scan and post it. Watch out for the Z chin. It’s remarkable!