There are some people who hone their writing to perfection. There are others who type rapidly and merrily post an entry that makes it look as if they behaved like drunken loons all evening.
I’d like to make it clear that I was not a drunken loon last night. Didn’t even behave like one. I sat on the floor, drank whisky and chuckled, it’s true, but it was much more restrained than it sounds. My floor-squatting habit dates from childhood, when the chairs were mostly full of dogs, which conveniently left the floor clear for people to sit on, I didn’t drink much and only chortled at amusing moments of the film.
Glad to have set the record straight.
Even gladder, this morning, to discover seven bottles of white wine in the fridge that I’d forgotten about. I haven’t room in the kitchen for a large enough fridge, so I have a second one in the back lobby where I keep milk, champagne and anything else there isn’t room for in Fridge 1. I also, for the last few months, have been housing a third fridge in the porch, little used but in need of a good home. This morning I discovered that Fridge 2 was no longer working. So it will be (safely and legally of course) disposed of and Fridge 3 is happily settling down in its place. But I put bottles of wine in every chilly place at the time of the Rector’s leaving party. We mostly drank red on that occasion and I forgot just how much was stashed.