On 24th May, 1973, I didn’t think ahead to an anniversary when I’d be 53 and the Sage (though he was simply the Sprout then) would be, gosh, well, we don’t talk much about that. However, I never doubted that we’d get there.
And we have.
So what did I do? I went out for a jolly, of course. I didn’t take the Sage, but I did take Another Man, Darling Friend S.
When I arrived home, steak was sizzling and champagne was cooling. And, would you believe it (for I hardly did), a present was on my desk from lovely Stegbeetle. I’ve written, of course, but thank you Steg – I’ll enjoy listening to it so much.
I got up when I woke, at 5.30. Now, I know you hard-working types … er … Boy, anyway … think that this is half way through the day, but I am not accustomed to hanging out my washing at twenty past six in the morning, and I am a little sleepy and more than a little drunk. So the little Q Quiz I might have for you on my camera must wait until tomorrow.