Gwen has gone and the flat has a different feel to it without her, as if someone's missing. Which they are. At least I was able to buy her a top for her birthday (on Saturday) which was an achievement - as one of the world's most generous friends, she finds it difficult to accept presents. Are you listening, Gwennie?! I put her on the bus to Truro looking very forlorn, clutching two huge bags and her mobile phone. She was very dog sick while she was here, desperately missing her chocolate lab, Dylan and her boxer, Walker, though Mollie provided some small comfort (small being the operative word after the size of Gwen's dogs). The phone was important as she carried pictures of her Beloved Boys, and also one of Mollie that she sent to Dylan as a present.
She'd be furious to find out that the tall ship, Artemis, sailed into Falmouth yesterday afternoon, in torrential rain. A small tall ship, as they go - sort of family sized, and perfect for Gwen, who's fascinated by ships. But that birthday present was not to be.
So life has returned to the usual frustrations - two features editors refusing to answer calls, more calls from elderly James, and trying to get on with editing the current novel. James wanted some cat food delivered, but when we arrived, James looked blank. 'Er, I'm sorry,' he said, with an apologetic grin. 'It's very nice to see you, but why are you here?' We explained about the catfood and he broke into a smile. 'Ah!' he cried. 'Yes! As it happens, I'm just about to run out.'
He then went on to reveal that his kitchen drain was blocked, and, after much guddling around (Himself being of a practical nature, he's good at unblocking drains), he found the offending objects. A pound of apricots and a silver spoon. Knowing James, he'll probably recycle the apricots for breakfast. And the silver spoon. How can you not love someone like that?
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