ABERDEEN IN A HEARBEAT

I brought the rain to Aberdeen, again. As my train arrived in the station spits of rain were dotting the pavements. I am the harbinger of the deluge – but not flooding, I hope.

Well, the Cointreau slipped down our throats with the greatest of ease; I poured the first one, and we sat slugging, because, as I said, ‘This is going down a treat, just like lemonade.’ And, that’s because it was lemonade; I forgot to stir it, so the Cointreau was sitting on the bottom of the glass…and when I got there, boy it was strong!

We got through over half the bottle, but had bought two; it was reduced to £14.99 in Morrison’s and I made Carrie put them in our basket. I told her that we might need more than one over the three nights, and we wouldn’t want to run out of the lovely stuff.

She is doing okay; it really is like a wake – we laughed our heads off at old tales and jokes, she cried a couple of tears but waved them away. The whole thing is very civilized; he’s here now packing up more of his stuff and we’ve been laughing and reminiscing for an hour – he is a lovely person, but dripping with baggage, which he has to go sort out. It’s a sad situation, but I know that Carrie will be alright.

We’re going to the cinema this afternoon to see John Travolta in a dress; Hairspray! Meeting up with Carrie’s daughter first, then we’ll have something to eat after the movie. The last time the three of us saw a movie together was when I treated us to Ghost in Newcastle; I surprised Carrie by producing a bottle of Bailey’s and two plastic cups – her daughter was only a teenager then. We left the cinema giggling like girls.

I went to bed last night with my toy-boy, Harry Potter. I bought it in WH Smith in the train station for £9.99 but had to spend another £15 to get it at that price, so I treated myself to Richard Dawkins, The God Delusion, and Carrie to a David Baldacci novel. I am enjoying HP even though I’ve forgotten a lot that happened in the last book, but it’s gradually becoming apparent. My sister-in-law, Sid, called me the other day to tell me that she’d been breaking her heart over it and had finished. 'Don’t tell me anything,’ I yelled. All the family have bought it from Asda for a fiver but I couldn’t be bothered going, and I’d have got a taxi home so would’ve paid about eight or nine quid for it in the long run…and I might have a new job next week anyway, so I’ll be alright for money – I hope.