9:21 p.m. - 2008-04-01
Rusty:
Life shouldn�t be something that you feel you have to get through with gritted teeth, though I have to say that for a while that�s exactly how it felt, it was one thing after another and I have neither time nor inclination to go into detail at this moment. It's nice to be journaling again, though it feels odd and kind of rusty. Its funny how quickly you fall out of the habit of something and also you wonder whether it�s worthwhile getting back on board, whether it matters or serves any purpose or point. Twinkles says that I�m better tempered when I write a journal, he says everyone offloads their problems onto me so it�s good for me to have an outlet for my emotions and thoughts. I think it�s his way of saying that he�s sick of my grumpy nagging. As I write he�s on the phone to Lulu happily bitching and carping about the hideous �botoxed from arsehole to breakfast time� queen who has replaced Cherie Pie as resident diva at the PP. It�s a temporary replacement just while Cherie recovers from an op to remove four wisdom teeth (sample remark made by the PP poison club: "by Christ I bet the surgeon had to dig deep to find anything wise in the cavern that passes as her gob") Cherie herself stage-managed the replacement; it�s an old pal of hers and therein lies Twinks� resentment. He should have been a contender. There should have been open auditions among the PP regulars. Cherie was just safeguarding her spot against other more talented in house entertainers and it just wasn�t fair. Brian had to wear earplugs for a while. As he pointed out, Cherie was in charge of the resident entertainment crew, he only dealt with the professional bookings.
I had a panicked call from Prissy this afternoon; I had to laugh even though it wasn�t really funny. Mum threw the hoover at him. He said it could have killed him, as at the time she was at the top of the stairs and he was at the bottom. He�d just got home from school and had stepped into the hall downstairs, apparently he didn�t wipe his feet and mum saw red. He said there was an almighty scream of rage and then the dyson came hurtling straight for him, it was still switched on as well, so he could have been crushed and mangled. Poor Prissy and poor mum too, she isn�t herself at the moment. She�s trying to come off HRT because of worries about its safety and her hormones are all to pot. Prissy says its like living with someone with multiple personality disorder with her moods swinging all over the place. I told him I�d call her and try to persuade her to go see her GP again and in the meantime I suggested he be very, very nice and gentle with her, flowers that kind of thing, while feeling intensely grateful that transvestism didn�t come with an inbuilt menopause and all its potential horrors.
I�m afraid I must disappear again. I�m being offered wine and something tasty to nibble on, how can I resist.
�
�
