Taking the biscuit

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I don’t really like Hobnobs. Gwen thinks I do. But I prefer Fox’s Butter Crunch. I’m sure I’ve told her. But she goes on buying Hobnobs. I like to have a biscuit – sometimes two – with a cup of tea. I don’t have sugar in my tea – or milk. But I do like a biscuit.
Anyway, I went for my flu jab this morning, and on the way back I bought a packet of Butter Crunch. I also bought myself a packet of Ryvita and two cans of soup

I’m watching my weight. I’m not obese, but I am heavier that I would like to be. I think I need to take some exercise. Apart from anything else I think it would help my glumness (I refuse to use the word ‘depression’). You know, get the old endorphins going. It comes and goes. Like Winston Churchill’s ‘Black Dog’. He would come downstairs in the morning and say to his wife “Black Dog’s here again.”
Of course Winston had a war to take his mind off his depression. I don’t have anything like that. Do you know that the suicide rate drops dramatically in times of war? Of course I am not advocating war – but it makes you think.

Oh, something that cheered me up this morning: a letter from Anastasia. They forwarded it on from Wynorin. Of course it had been steamed open, but at least Norah had the decency to forward it to me.

I am reproducing here – unabridged. I am not included her address because I don’t want any of you perverts out there stalking her

My Dearest Georgie

Hoping this letter finds you as I send your house WYNORIN where we spend such happiness times until spoiled by that bitch – you know who.

Of course you may be domiciled (note big word) in other parts but should not be difficulty for postal services finding you, such is the smallness of your little cramped island.

Things not going too well for your little Anna. This credit crunching with the banking loans not happening have hit hard our Swedish Porn Industry. (Always is essential services suffering in times such as these). Anyway, Anna has been reduced in her circumstances – to working in sweat shop. You have such thing in England? Is little shop selling sweats and chocoletz plus Coke – which is not stuff for sniffing up nose, but American fizzy drink. This also is getting up nose but not having same effect (Little Swedish joke)

Busy times is when little kiddiwinkles coming home from school and buying the MARS BAR and other such shit what is bad for their bodies. And also little buggers looking at Anna’s bottom as she bend down for liquorice torpedo.

Lady what owns shop has dead husband. So is lonely. Sometimes when we shut shop she invite me to flat upstairs for glass of gin, and discuss economic crisis – and other activities.

Anna miss you terrible. How about slipping over on Stenna ferryboat and we make hay while moon shines? I have not had sexual proclivities filled for long time – well, not by male person.

Hoping letter finding you well, as is leaving me. (Little trouble now has cleared up. Thanks I am thinking to the anti-bioptics. Was getting nowhere with live yoghurt although I eat many tubs of this shit.

Thinking of you always as I dish out gob-stoppers.

Your little playmate

Anna


I miss her. I would go over there like a shot, but it is the money – or lack of it! You may ask, what about the money from the house? Well, I was stitched up good and proper by old Sponce; I didn’t get anywhere near its true market value (even allowing for the downturn in the housing market.) And by the time the lesbian had taken her cut, and I had paid legal fees and a few other bills, I had hardly anything left. Which is why I am living in this Bed and Breakfast establishment – subsisting on Gwen’s Hobnobs.

BUT I HAVE A PLAN