Short

Alas, this is a very short diary entry.

I mean properly short, not one of the ones where I promise that it will be short and then go on for six hundred more words anyway.

This one will actually be short. This is because it is half past one in the morning and I have been drinking.

I have not been drinking all night. For most of the evening I was at work, which is where I usually write these pages. Tonight I did not write them, because I started the evening with a contented half an hour reading a book about David Cameron, who I like much better now that I have read things about him, and then after that I kept getting distracted.

People kept getting in the taxi. Not all of them were customers, some of them at least were Mark, wanting a cup of tea, and occasionally Number Two Daughter, wanting to tell us about her taxi driving adventures.

The rest were customers. They were the tiresome midweek customers who are never going anywhere very far and who all pretend to have a bad leg so that I will not judge them for being to portly and idle to walk up the hill.

I do not care if people do not want to walk up the hill. If all of our tourists had read books about healthy living then my business would be finished. Drunk and lazy is far better for trade.

I spent most of the evening driving just round the corner to hotels that I thought must have been targeting their advertising to the disabled, and by eleven o’ clock I was sick of it and we went home.

Mark had very kindly bought me a bottle of the Glenfiddich whisky that I liked as an early Christmas surprise. It was not exactly a surprise because Amazon kept sending me emails about it, acknowledging the order and then telling me when they planned to deliver, so when it turned up in the post today it was hard to be astonished.

It was easy to be pleased, though, and I was.

The whisky was every bit as nice as I remembered it, and Mark, and Number Two Daughter, who helped with the sampling, agreed with me.

The thing was that after the second glass I remembered that I had forgotten to write to you.

I had another glass whilst I considered this, and eventually realised that I couldn’t think of anything to write.

I have spent the day going to Asda and taking the taxi for an MOT, which is really very dull indeed.

I won’t bother telling you about that.

Indeed, I think this is just going to be a very short diary entry.

Whisky makes me very sleepy.

The picture was very kindly sent to me by a friend from school, not that I have been to school for some considerable time, but I have kept the friends, which is ace. It is the camper van making a guest appearance in another magazine, this one being Caravan And Motorhome Club.