Wow! Do I have some exciting news!
But first the ordinary stuff.
I met friends for drinkies at the Jolly Farmer as a final celebration of this year’s birthday. We were sitting in the garden chatting amicably as not one, not two, but five different people stopped to say ‘Hi’. To me. Starting with Brian, the hunkalicious preacher guy from St. James, the Anglican Church. And may I say, purely in the interests of unbiased reporting, he looks damned fine in those little bicycle shorts (the tight, stretchy kind).
“How do you know him?” Hester inquired suspiciously. She knows I play on another team. “Dunno” I answered after I thought about it. “I think we’re on some Save the Universe or whatever committee together.”
Then it was Leechy, whom I’ve not seen for ages, since I don’t go to the Grotto anymore, now that it’s a pub for Chelsea supporters
(‘white trash’ in American). Fortunately he was practically sober and didn’t embarrass me too much. I saw one of the famous pub slags from the Volly; maybe she’s moved up in quality of pubs. But I just waved hello to her. I don’t do pub slags. I saw some other acquaintances I knew from the old days at the Grotto, too. I got a tiny bit nostalgic for the good old days, and nights, there.
Coming home, I popped into the brand new Sainsbury’s Market, where the wine shop used to be, for some coffee filters. The Sainsbury’s is open until the bewitching hour of 11:00 pm, a really big deal in Weybridge. You’ll never believe who was manning the till. Trevor of the Fifty Hands. No kidding. Maybe he lost his license again and can’t drive the cab. I didn’t ask; I just paid for my coffee filters and left.
One of the things I almost never do here is go to the movies, except for Film Club at shul. I don’t really know why. I mean, I like movies. I guess I’m always doing something else. Well, I went to the movies, twice, with friends. Different ones. I saw ‘The Girl on the Train’, Andre Techine’s brilliant cautionary tale about ‘crying wolf’ at the Yvonne Arnaud Theatre in Guildford with Adriana, and ‘The Concert’, Romanian Radu Mihaileanu’s charming comedy about the Bolshoi Orchestra in Walton with Estelle. I loved both films.
I had dinner at Hazel’s, dinner at Adriana’s, tea at Allison’s, and had five ladies to luncheon at mine (yes, I cooked). In between, I did my shifts, did a car boot sale, spent a day in Chiswick with JDavid (some of it was work; honest), and took a few meetings. Whew! I’m tired just blogging about it.
At shul, Cousin Bernie was the gabbai and he charmed me into reading a prayer. But not the Queen one. That one feeds into my identity crisis issues. I thought it went fine. Until the Oneg after services.
Someone had visitors from the States and the lady came up to me to say ‘Mazel tov!’ because I read so eloquently. What she actually said was “What part of the Midwest are you from?”
Of course I was bloody insulted!
I looked at her like she was crazy. “Are you meshuggah? I’m not from the Midwest. Did I say anything about ‘elephant’s eyes’ or ‘corn’ or the ‘State Fair’? I’m from the Right Coast, Philadelphia to be specific. And, no, they don’t make cream cheese there.” (She probably already knew that; I just find myself saying it every time I say ‘Philadelphia’).
You won’t believe this, but she replied “Oh? We’re from Pittsburgh. Your accent is a little peculiar.”
There is nothing wrong with my accent. It’s a lovely one. Of course, what can you expect from people from Pittsburgh? It’s practically in Ohio, and all that Ohio-ness must waft across the state line on the Jet Stream. Midwest, indeed!
Smack came over to visit this week, with her daughter. She also returned my camera, which I’d left at her house, after she left her jacket at mine at the Festa di Independenza barbecue. Sadly, the convo meandered onto The Turd, who’s still hanging around Smack being turdy.
I mentioned that The Turd is Tom’s hero. When Tom was here on Wednesday, he brought up the famous Boxing Day Trifecta. He was impressed that The Turd could do it, and well, three times in one day. After driving up and down England to get to all three places.
Tom had caught up on the blog.
Oh yeah. Did I mention that gorgeous Tom is back in Surrey?