I hope

I had a diary clash.

Not two parties, not two weddings or two meetings. No, two funerals and a day of interviews. Two fucking funerals. This makes my purse full of museum memberships and senior discounted travel cards, the wheelie bag and scented drawer liners pale into insignificance as old age indicators.

I couldn’t go to either due to work.

One of the funerals was that of Audrey. My parents neighbour, she was a fabulous old bird who had been a land army girl and a devoted mother to many. I’ve lost count of how many, 12? She was fun loving and unable to hold a conversation without slipping in a handful of slightly misplaced words. As a consequence even serious conversations were a joy.

She’d reached a ripe old age but you know how hard loss is.

Funerals aside the day started well for me even though I overslept a smidge meaning I got to work just fifteen mins early rather than my usual hour.

Trump is in town and as per usual his putridness is staying just around the corner. I love big helicopters but we’re getting a bit too much of those good things. Military style double helicopters fly over our place constantly. They’re noisy bastards and they rattle our ancient windows. I make rude hand signs at them hoping beyond hope that the trump will see. I know he won’t but it’s the thought that counts don’t you think?

Anyhow this morning all traffic was halted for a huge motorcade of police outriders and cars with blacked out windows. It was him! I waved two fingers, one finger, two fingers. I so hope he saw and I hope he was offended. I hope he doesn’t think I had sore fingers or that I was doing finger exercises or very poor hand jiving.

I hope.

Anyhow, bye Audrey, you were a delight. xX❤️Xx