Best Friends and a Best Friend's Book with update

There are three best friends. One lives in Shetland, and is unlikely to drop by for coffee. There are more great friends and I don't visit them as much as I'd like to either.  So …..

Two best friends come to visit today. As I am truly Out in the Sticks, I do not treat this lightly. They have made a joint heroic effort during an individually busy but beautiful autumn day.

We talk about many things, and I realise that much of the catch–up is covered by the blogging, which neither of them has read, for their own reasons. One hates computers and will only use one under duress, and the other hasn’t had two minutes to rub together.

Friends One and Two are only designated thus by the time I’ve known them.

Anyway.

By way of catch–up explanation I read one blog–post printout left on kitchen table which was for my mother to read with her scanning mouse, but got left behind when I took her home. It can join the pile....

You’re getting very strident in your old age, says Friend One. Whose middle name can be strident when she needs to be.

Friend Two wisely says nothing.
They both know this stridency is actually my stomping over the cinders of previous confusions and difficulties and marching towards what HAS to be better.

By the way, F1 has written a book. It is a brilliant book. It’s about the planets and how they make merry with the lives of men, and this case a man’s girlfriend, our heroine. It illuminates what’s going on Down Here, in the light of what an arse they’re making of it Up There. Mars is the consummate Medallion Man. Really does think he’s God’s gift to women. Saturn turns out to be twins, living in a huge dour mansion which reminds you of Psycho Hotel.

Venus is a piss–artist and pill–popper par excellence. One year she gets so completely out of it, she misses Valentine’s Day completely. Oh, the humiliation.

 “Now look what you’ve done,” says another planet to Venus. “Fucked that up good and proper, didn’t you! Wrong people falling in love with the ones they were supposed to be avoiding, the plot’s gone all to hell and what are you doing? Staring at the cctv monitors and giggling. For crying out loud, get a grip!” * And she sort of does, in the end. Most of Venus’s belongings are pink, from her fluffy slippers and flouncy negligées to the plastic flamingo in the pond. She’s worth the book, all on her own.

* I am paraphrasing....

And the book isn’t being published. If all goes well, it’s being made into a film. Keep your fingers crossed. It’s very early days. 

Update Sunday 7 November

This is what happens when you decide to blog after a skinful.** Definitely got somewhat ratted** last night. Opened my Big Mouth about diseases and marriage and all.

Made it sound like I'd had a hard life! Which I absolutely have not. Might stick some stuff back up sometime - see how I feel.

Mars, by the way: I seem to remember he was all bulgy muscles, always working out at the gym and going for a jog, far too much energy than was good for him. But that might just be the impression he left me with.

Going to get another coffee, the third of many, and have a sober and dutiful day.

PS and final - actually think it did me good to get rat-arsed for once. **drink a whole bottle of wine in 6 hours in a ladylike manner.