Ted seemed very tired today, which is worrying. I mean – he’s bloody old, so it shouldn’t be surprising if he has a Sunday nap every now and then, but even when he was awake, he didn’t seem with it. I tried to engage him in snooker chat but he wasn’t really bothered. I brought up the subject of Norwich City Football Club winning promotion to the Premier League, but it fell flat. (Mind you – he knows full well that I have very little interest in football so he may have seen through my ruse and decided not to indulge me.)
Anyway,
it was a jolly enjoyable afternoon, even with Mr Snoozy snoring his way through
most of it. Beryl may be losing mobility with age but she sure as Hell isn’t
losing her culinary skills. We had the most succulent cut of beef I have ever
tasted, adorned with some Marmite-covered roast potatoes (don’t knock ‘em til
you’ve tried ‘em) and my all-time Beryl-made favourite – cauliflower cheese.
Needless
to say, Beryl served up enough for 72 people and then refused any attempts to
avoid second helpings, so I now feel as if a pool of methane the size of South
Sudan is making its way towards my southmost orifice.
Philippa could be in for a
rough night.
RC 5-4-19
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