I don’t know if anybody called Josephine reads these pages but if so then I am apologising to her or even him, you never know these days, the world has become a bit unpredictable in that department, and I even know a man called Tracey.
This is quite a nice name for anybody and in any case he is American so that is all right because you can be called Tracey over there, sometimes for a last name as well, like Spencer Tracey. You would probably not do that if you were called Julia or Annabelle or something, so as names go it is more useful than the average.
I just wanted to say that I am not writing on these pages this evening, because of having, I hope, too many taxi customers to make it a sensible proposition. It is profoundly irritating to have Persons from Porlock turning up at the window just as you are composing the perfect sentence structure and considering the most perfect bon mot.
It has not been an exciting day anyway. I woke up too early and was so grumpy with my world that we thought the best thing to do with the afternoon would be to go back to bed, which we did. This was utterly blissful, apart from the dogs having a bored brawl on the floor next to the bed, and the alarm going off. That was not at all nice.
In the end we woke up far later than we should have done and had to go belting round getting dinner ready and emptying the irritating dogs. It was almost seven before we went dashing out of the door, but it was all right really because it is never a good idea to drive a taxi when one is too sleepy to work out which bits are the road.
Hence, Josephine and everybody else, I will see you either tomorrow, or more probably the day after.
Have a happy weekend…
