This weekend was a good one for me because I went out with a selection of friends on Saturday night and left Seb with Margaret babysitting. Apart from him getting in the way of VH1's Top Forty Bubblegum Pop Moments and smearing banana on her cardigan, she seemed to cope very well. She told me yesterday evening that she's managed to find a flat above a shop near the station which is a good and a bad thing; I admit that I like the company but can't really cope with her for much longer, she's a lovely woman but I'm fed up with her unrealistic cleaning expectations plus her excessive labelling of food items. She'll be off in the next couple of weeks if all goes well, which is good because Uncle Jim has found a place in the Retired HumanEarthworm Sanctuary in Dorset and Auntie Pat is buying a Majorcan villa with her lover, you know the one, he looks like a heady mixture between Phil Collins and Leonard Rossiter.
I have joined the Departmental choir! Yes, after Easter I'll be singing my little heart out once a week. I love singing and since my beautiful rendition of 'My Old Man Said Follow The Van' at Butlins during the 80s I've always hankered to perform. Sadly my brother outdid me on that holiday by dressing up as a Roman Centurion and lifting the female Redcoats' skirts with his balsa wood sword.
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