The Great Escape

Ever Dearest Diary,

It is as though a weight hath been lifted from my shoulders. We trudged through red-clay fields and hills this morning, Ronulus and I, through an ochre coloured overflowing river, o’er hills and through sodden valleys, we escaped.

When Ron’ was freezing his nads off last night, I just snapped. Enough is enough.

When we were young we used to have a dog called ‘Kitchen’ as that is all father ever said to him. This is how scanty the rapport and empathy with canines he has. When he shouted at me last night, “Is that dog of yours in the bedroom?” I went f- mEnTaL at him. This morning I apologised.

After our journey, once we had reached the little town, father and I crossed paths.

“What you doin’?”

“I’m going to the next town, I’ll be back for the gig tonight.”

“What about guitar practice?”

“I’ll make sure I do a good job, as always.”

At that, he stormed off in a huff. Dad has not player the saxophone in practice, he plays keyboards, then plays sax’ all throughout the show, so it’s pretty rich him asking me to run through the same monotonous three chord riffs over and over and over.

c’est mon choix: what I choose to do with my time. It is not often that she makes it south of the border, so I took the opportunity to meet her today.

For all the support and subsequent ‘right’ in ordering me about, I have just had enough of father. When I was in the shop buying some morning orange juice My Best Friend came on the radio, and little Ronnie Barker was outside wagging his tail, looking up at me expectantly at the checkout. I love you Ron. No, we won’t let the nasty man leave you alone outside in the freezing cold, will we? No. There there Ronulus. *cuddle* It’s alright now mate, Maxy’s here.