Stargazing Addicts Destined to Quarrel,

Events seem rather tumultuous. I wonder if I get too involved and then make comments that I shouldn’t. I think I’ve nearly reversed by opinion on the need to call Interpol. In the last episode of The Bellyaches, I did not report the fact that I had to tether an upended tree to an upright support. This detail may prove important for climatic studies of the future, folklore is just as important as statistics.

The wedding anniversary celebrations were quite something, perhaps they can be deemed a success. Dinner was at the most well-to-do golf club in the area. This caused a hilarious argument over the right to wear jeans. It was a pointless ruling, our family were the only guests. Service was shocking, we were there for 90 minutes before being served the starter, all of the family had finished their starters before the final person had received their dish (etiquette was abandoned because of hunger). My garlic mushrooms had no garlic dressing. The main course arrived 30 minutes later, my “Scottish-style Chicken Supreme” was not worth waiting for. The chicken was meant to be stuffed with haggis, wrapped in bacon and drizzled with a Drambuie sauce. The haggis was not haggis, the bacon was undercooked and the sauce tasted of nothing. I don’t eat dessert but I ordered one so that someone else could have two.

The second part of the celebrations involved the usual bowling club social night (with bingo) sharing a bill with the party. We arrived during the bingo – it was like walking onto the set of Pheonix Nights. No one is allowed to speak during the bingo, but they all make a drone in a House of Parliaments-stylee between games. The highlight of the bingo was an old man passing wind as he walked across the floor amidst the silence of concentrating bingo players.

Being the eldest grandchild, I was given the honour of bringing in the cake; fending off a last ditch attempt to be usurped, I carried out this duty to the best of my ability.

The astrologer in the Sunday Post, Jane Ridder-Patrick, writes of my week ahead, “There’s nothing you like more than a good drama, and you could be tempted to treat events in your daily life like a soap opera this week. Enjoy the sensation, but don’t get carried away or you could upset some people. If you’re inspired to right a story now, don’t hold back.” That’s how I feel now; I don’t want another week like that.

I now feel like I live in a street of human slurry more than ever. They have no local pride or self-respect.