You Shall Go To The Ball

What a hard weekend it has been, o my brothers. Saturday going to a friend's house in Fleet for lunch. And drinking. And smoking. Well, I closed my eyes and kept a stiff upper lip as I forced myself to do all three of these things. It wasn't easy, my only friends, it really wasn't.

Then Sunday, off to my ultra-insensitive mothers, another round of drinking (coke), smoking and a huge Sunday lunch. I prayed for strength that morning, I can tell you.

Then nightime comes around and I was forced to go and see Georgie Fame in a one-off concert up the road in the big stadium. I went on my own-ie as it seems I have no real friends - except you o my brothers.

What a brilliant man he was! And his two wonderful sons. Did all the stuff: Yeh, Yeh and Gotta Go (or something) and Bonnie & Clyde. I can still see him doing that one on Top of the Pops! (I know! I know!).

Made friends with two gay guys sitting next to me. Had a drink and a fag outside. "Can't believe you came on your own!", one kept saying. Despite my fog of lager and smoke, I wished he would keep his voice down.

Said they would invite me to an exhibition at their house in Fulham. But I don't know how long this friendship will last.

Back to ironing and washing tonight for old Cinderella here. Then sleeping in the old fireplace I expect. Never mind, perhaps the Fairy Godmother will come back next Saturday - eh?