Personal stuff and snobbery.

It looks like this week, as last, I'll have to take Felix out for lunch on Friday. We have the decorator in, touching up bits of paintwork in a professional fashion. The longsighted amongst you will recognise a symptom of getting ready to market. We'll see, but Cambridge is a possibility if we can find the right house. But something with four rooms downstairs: a Kitchen, a Dining Room, a Drawing Room, and a Study/Library/Music Room; with space for a baby Grand Piano for Her Ladyship. Victorian (or earlier) shutters on the windows would be nice, too.

Last night I played my first game of Bridge in two years. Fra and I toddled across to Young Chelsea, and were most surprised that although playing pretty horrendously, didn't come last, nor even next-to-last....nor the next neither. (Couldn't resist the alliteration). Carved a good few hands however: my contracting ain't what it was. Even simple squeeze-play was beyond my ken: of course, I recognised the errors I'd committed only after the events. Aaargh! I hate not being good at things. Mind you, Young Chelsea isn't what it used to be in its heyday. There were only six or seven tables, rather than the forty or fifty it was wont to host....even on a Tuesday night.

Before Bridge I saw Cressy and Grace, bless 'em, and Annabel, who is looking for a flat in and around Fulham. Had a chance to show off my new fretless guitar (a Tele)  to Cress. Almost completely impossible to play, of course. Have left it in a slide tuning at the moment. That's shameful, I know, but......

Will play Bridge next Tuesday evening with Fra. On Thursday week I'll cook for Fra, Cressy, Joanna, and Posh Stephen who has kindly consented to being Spare Chap. Hope Joanna and he get on enough to bring him out of his shell.

I'd better phone Felix and tell him Thursday will be Friday for the next couple of weeks. I hope that will be okay.