Saturday, July 31

the deifheid chronicles

It's Friday after work. On the way now to yet another dreadful deifheid dinner party. If I was a different person, I'd be grateful - I get driven there and back, I could drink all their booze (but never do), the food is tasty if you like that kind of thing. Yet all I can think is: another chunk of my life wasted.

Last weekend was better. There was a 4-hour walk, with a group of new people, and some of them were hardly deifheids at all!

Late Friday night. Just back from the deif dinner. A great night. I told you it would be good. I was handed a glass of red champagne when I arrived. Why did nobody ever tell me drink could help?

Also, the hosts were the birthday girl's parents, so for once the grown ups were in charge of the asylum, and the chief deifheids showed some restraint. I sat beside the mother, an absolute sweetie. If only I was ten years older! When I expressed an interest in her paintings, she took me into her bedroom to show me the best one. I got a proper kiss on the way out. If I'd been quicker off the mark there could have been tongue.

For entertainment, there was a litter of kittens. And even some of the conversation wasn't too bad. For once the cellmate had to drag me away.

On the minus side, I had to eat some dead tortured chemicalised animal. It all balances up.

- Posted from iPod


  1. Albert? I think you were entitled at such a point to ask the old dear for a Lewinsky. I think this whole world of old joes and josephines could be transformed by these simple questions. Do you know me? Where are you from? What would it matter if you could give me a gobble? Thank god you don't have any teeth. I'm sure she was a nice gurl once, but let's get down to the basics! Hotboy p.s. It would be better if you didn't go out at all!

  2. Hotters. You're an old Joe yourself - I think you're saying Brian takes his teeth out for you on those long runs by the canal. No wonder he has to carry you home.