2 April, 2008
How to stay sane in West London
I’d like you to meet my new cellmate, Mr Chauncey Rapscallion. I found him lying facedown, half drunk behind the radiator. He says he likes it there, that the fluff is comfy and the heat stops him thinking about crows. He’s going to keep me company during the rest of my sentence. Tomorrow night we’re having a Canasta and sock-folding party. Come.
Just don’t drop the soap, Chauncey! We don’t call Ben here Ol’ Browneye for nothing.
Comment by Brad — 3 April, 2008, 4:24 am
Brad!
Comment by Ben — 3 April, 2008, 9:04 am
Hey, I’ve just happened onto your blog and I’m loving your writing. Don’t ask how I got here, it was a long journey with many changes en-route.
Anyway, sock folding and canasta sounds great to me. When’s the party?
Comment by Travelling, but not in love — 17 April, 2008, 9:40 am
Thank you kindly. Anyone who names their blog after an immediately recognisable Rufus lyric gets my similarly immediate attention.
I’m afraid the party was cancelled. Chauncey threw a strop after discovering that Advocaat does not cure the common cold, and we sad about in despondent silence instead.
Comment by Ben — 17 April, 2008, 2:29 pm