Martin, is that you? Oh, sorry. Silly man is puttering about the garden. I told him not to be long, and heís been at it for more than an hour. Actually, he seems to be feeling better. We went for a drive to East Imbiben yesterday and had a bite to eat at the Drunken Hare. Iíve been trying to get him to see a specialist, but he wonít have it. Says heís had enough of doctors. The man is as stubborn as mule, you know. Thereís no budging him when he gets his mind made up.
But no sooner do I get Martin sorted then John falls apart. The boyís a wreck. Well, you canít blame him, really. Emma has run off with Nigel Banks! Imagine your girlfriend leaving you for a vicar! I suppose it could be worse, she could have left him for a nun, but thatís not likely, is it?
Youíll never guess who else has made an appearance! Simonís Mum. Blimey, is she a talker! The woman never stops to draw breath. Poor lad, growing up in that household.
She should be right at home--the actors are all back from London and are like a flock of crows. All noise and preening and pecking at each other. Dear me, I wish they'd finish up and go away.
Well, since you're here, why don't you join me for a nice cup of tea? I've got some sausage rolls, too, if you fancy one? Good, I'll go put the kettle on.