Dear C,
Do you think it’s a bad sign when, in the course of dressing your own children for a family christening, your own father sends you back to your room to change? OK, so the dress I had on did make it difficult to enter and exit the church pew without causing the vicar to drop his false teeth in the font, but how was I to know that when it came to cutting corners, Lily P. would so wickedly opt for the hemline?
You’ll be glad to hear that on this occasion, at least, I stood down the old man, dear C, declaring that it is every grown (but not quite middle-aged) woman’s right to make a fool of herself in public – especially while on vacation, where she is unlikely to be spotted by anyone whose opinion she respects. Lord knows how many such opportunities we might have left in this life, before gravity and dementia take over, and we find ourselves groping the choir boy without being able to remember why.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, the oldballandchain and I are off to light some spliff and chug back the bottle of cherry liqueur I sneaked past my parents in the backhouse. With any luck, they haven’t spotted the bottle under my sweater, but if you don’t hear from me for the next few days, you’ll know it’s because I’ve been grounded. Thankfully, some things never change.
Cheers for now!
P.
