Well, well, I'm back in London and back at work after five glorious days in west Cornwall. It was an especially relaxing sojourn this time. It was my mother-in-law's birthday, so we entertained at theirs one day and spent the rest of the time gadding about, eating asparagus and drinking gin. The sun never stopped shining, not neither. So, all-in-all, it was a real wrench to come home yesterday.
I've mentioned before how well-disposed I am by inclination for retirement. This trip confirmed the hypothesis. I could quite happily retire. All I need is the mortgage paid and modest pension, just enough to keep me in bikes and beer. The only other possibility would be to become a minor royal, but that's a long-shot, let's face it. I'm a bit too "below-stairs". And a Catholic. Also, there is an undeniably tedious element to royal life. Opening hospices is not for me. I'm too shy. That said, I do have quite a regal bearing - always have had. And were I ennobled, I'd insist on wearing a fez, just to mix it up a bit.
- I declare this hospice open. Just like that.
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