In which The Author gets to meet someone new
As I mentioned last week, I’ve got to go to Cardiff next Thursday. I’ve been putting it off for ages, because (let’s face it) there’s not very much in Cardiff that I haven’t seen at least a thousand times already. Given the opportunity for a day away from Aberdare, I’d rather spend an extra twenty quid and head straight for London.
However, I’ve got a reason to go to Cardiff next week – although I don’t yet know exactly where I’m expected to go. I emailed the TV company yesterday, and I’m still waiting on a reply.
Anyway, once the audition’s over the day will be my own, so I’ve pencilled in lunch with Shanara, the dippy bint. I’ve got Xmas presents for her two sons – my honorary nephews – and we haven’t seen each other for ages, so it’ll be good to catch up and have a chat.
It appears that we’ll be joined by one of her friends, too.
Shanara thinks that I’ll hit it off with a woman she knows. She’s a half-Jewish convert to Islam, with a husband, a young child, and what sounds like some sort of mild personality disorder. Shanara emailed me this week, to say that her friend is ‘counting down the days’ until she gets to meet me.
I can’t imagine for a minute why Shanara thinks we’ll get on so well. At first blush, her friend sounds like a complete whack job. Then again, look at my track record with women over the past fifteen years or so.
If I didn’t know better, I’d swear Dippy was trying to play matchmaker.
Watch this space …
An Autobiography in Random Chapters 