Bored to Dinner

Well, the rain held off for The Wedding, which I was forced to watch. People have started wearing hats over their foreheads unfortunately, and some rather extreme Ugly Sister effects were seen. Apart from that, the fashion was fun to watch, and for once, I actually liked the bride's dress which covered the arms. I have always preferred proper sleeves, particularly with a church ceremony. How old-fashioned of me.

In the evening Victorine fetched up rather late, but just in time to gulp down half a glass of rose before departing to the Chop House. We started with a pleasant celebratory dinner. However, the conversation went on and on with a forensic dissection of every wedding detail and my 'polite' veneer, always rather thin, wore off a bit. I was branded a republican. I had certainly not realised some of my friends were such ardent royalists. The evening deteriorated more with a lengthy monologue from Victorine about a retired actor's home in Northwood, describing the foibles of the residents and involving much name-dropping. I had already heard about this in detail some weeks previously, but did not like to mention it because being 'forgetful' is part of growing older, and I have often been guilty of the same. Fortunately my relatives manage to remind me of this before I go too far. Perhaps I have become more impatient. As Nic No-Nose once kindly remarked: 'I'm too fucking old to listen to bollocks'.

Victorine also accused me of cruelty because I had left the Kook for a few days with a cat minder, though he was happy to be at home and was being regularly fed and played with.

To add injury to insult, it was pissing with rain when we left, and Victorine and spouse wanted to be dropped off at London Bridge Station, for which the minicab charged me an extra tenner. Probably royal wedding charges, but I have never paid £20 to get to Elephant & Castle from Butler's Wharf before. I may as well have used Addison Lee. Oh well, I was very glad to get home and play with Kook. Dear me, I am a Southwark Grumbler.

I shall change my wonderful linen bed sheets this morning, and drink some coffee from the wonderful machine given to me by Dorothy and Julian. I may well sit out in the garden in the sun, gazing at my new olive tree, now expertly replanted in a large pot.