Free Lunch

We were taken out for lunch this weekend by our insane Indian landlord.
After being regaled for an hour with some rather lewdly spicy (and frankly, unprintable) tales of his yesteryear relationship as a Cambridge undergrad being led astray by a Catholic nun, we were taken for lunch in what can only be described as a slice shop.

Although he was at pains to impress upon us the fact that he would not be taking us for a cheap lunch, our entrees were brought to the table in silver foil trays and by the end of the meal, there was a hole in the bottom of June’s plate.

As we walked home feeling both dazed by the experience and somewhat violated, we recalled, that as someone once said, there’s no such thing as a free lunch.

In Search Of The Miraculous

On the hunt for new friends again…

As our older contemporaries will remember, from time to time, Terry & June feel the need to buoy their ranks of friends and find some new ones. Add to this, our never-ending search for a Hamptons mansion in which to spend our weekends, and we’ve got to persevere and keep the faith that one day someone may want to join our modest gang (of two).

The latest in our sights are recently-penniless photographer, Annie Liebowitz and Ruth Madoff, wife of disgraced financier, Bernie, recently ostracized from New York’s high society.

What better a pair than this to approach for new friendship? Surely even these two desperate souls, at their lowest ebb of life, would be happy to befriend us?
If anyone has their numbers to hand, please send them in.

My affair

Following my myriad liaisons in the Scottish countryside, I felt it was time for some serious fun, so headed to the bright lights of London’s metropolis, where posing as a Petit Chaperon Rouge, I found my wolf.

There followed four hedonistic days of squatting, as Bonnie and Clyde were reunited for their usual messing about on the river and aborted bike rides, from Tuscan/Jewish feasts and Jamaican jazz dancing, to thunderstorm stranding on the Jubilee Line and farmer’s chutney rave parties.

Alas, like all things fabulous, it had to come to an end, and I’m returning to the hubby on the Hudson.

As my faither would say, “Back tae auld claes and purridge”.

Or in the words of Alton Ellis, pure sorrow…..

FOUND

Well, it would appear that the wife has been having something of a busy time. However, I know her tricks! Trying to make Terry jealous are we? I see no Frenchmen, only Curly Sue in a beret, no ladies for the lesbian affair, and your brother! Apart from Johnny, I don't see anyone even vaguely suitable for an affair there, and I'm sure he's got higher morals than to get involved with a married woman. If you're trying to turn this into a competition, June, you know who's going to win...

On a lighter note, I was stopped yesterday in Chinatown and asked to pick a card - I picked this magnificent specimen (pictured) and although I don't believe I've FOUND him yet, I can only imagine it's going to happen this weekend. Watch this space...

Four year itch...?

I've been having a whale of a time over here in the homeland, and away from the prying eyes of my husband. Thank God dependable old Terry has no idea about my extra-marital flings.

Thus far, on an innocent camping trip I've managed to find a new husband, have a child, break up a five-year marriage and conduct several affairs - one French, one Irish, and one of the sado-masochistic lesbian variety.

Who would've thought island life would be quite so exciting?

Escaping America

So here I am at last: June signing in, from a far-off land...

My quest to escape the 35 degree heat of NYC has so far been a raging success, having spent the past three nights under canvas in the torrential rains and 15 degrees of Bonnie Scotland's West coast.

Glen Sannox camp site not being quite the technological hub I had imagined, the full adventure run-down will need to wait until I'm back in civilisation....

Air Time!

Really getting into the swing of the single life now...It's So Hot! One of the only ways to get any air in this city is to wait for a gust of wind from below. So last night I embraced my feminine side and took to the subway grates a la Marilyn outside Do Forno Hughes Heights. I attracted a lot of attention! What will the wife say?

On a down side, the frozen bolognese sauce is starting to run out, as is the booze cabinet, as is the housekeeping cash she left me...

Oh, and it looks like one of the plants is dying...

Gotcha!

Found one.. It would seem that Chadwin House houses a secret bar/library in its upper levels, where all the straight men are. I was amazed and delighted that it was so easy and that the one I snared was so red blooded - practically a cave man!!!