Angels, the Lavatory Seat Diaries and a Scrotom on The Elbow.

Yes there are angels and we heard one at St Johns Smith Square singing Poulenc’s Gloria. Rowan Fenner is the one she does sing like an angel, and she is dark haired which makes a change. Quite exquisite, and the distant tessitura was such as I have never quite heard before. Then there are all the beauties who help to run Compassion In World Farming. There was a select gathering last night where the great warrior Philip Lymbery gave us a taste of his next book which gives an account of the Palmolive horror spelling the extinction of the Sumatran Elephant. It all boils down to stomachs!

These events were very welcome after the continuing saga of the lavatory seat, a bill for “inspecting and flushing toilet,” drove me round the bend, left me very pissed off and so on…… because as I pointed out it was not a very “big job” also the concept of summoning a technician each time the “toilet” did not quite empty established a dangerous precedent of flatulent idleness… double flushing is the answer. I never actually saw the damn thing but of course it turned out to be “the ball cock” didn’t it? “Bullshit” the Sainted One announced.. There were a lot of tenants in our house on the Isle of Wight this summer I cannot establish the culprit and the thing is not over, but we have paid the bill of course, we just want closure.

Then there was my elbow which swelled up and then burst nobody here could look at they said it made them feel sick, so it was taken to Accident and Emergency. It was writers elbow and had gone septic potentially life threatening actually, it has calmed down after antibiotics but I am left with an empty gourd which someone remarked looked like a scrotal sack, of course I have never seen one of those so I wouldn’t know…… this is the price you pay for genius, ten thousand words to go scrotum or no scrotum.

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