Tuesday, 8 February 2011

I started to read Rebecca on the day that Merlin and Sam came to Croydon and we had a drink the pub, on the xx of xxx xxxx.

The best taxi driver in the world. Use this guy again. Otis would say this about every taxi driver we had. Forget about the other one, he’s no good. He’s useless. This guy. Take his card, call this guy again. Thanks Otis, great advise. We never had to call a taxi, though. Apart from maybe once or twice, but when we did it wasn’t us who called them anyway, it was George, Camilla’s Grandfather, so that was fine. He was fluent in eleven languages or something. Eleven or seven. An impressive number nonetheless. I felt uncomfortable standing near him when Camilla was asking him about it, standing there with one language under my belt. And not even one that I can use very well. One that I trip up and stammer and stutter over.

Even though I had said I would finish the book by the xx of xxx xxxx and be able to see the stage production of it in the church hall with my Mum on the xx of xxx xxxx, I didn't realise that there would be a visitor and I wouldn't be able to finish the book on time, and miss the play completely.

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