Tuesday, 6 September 2011

Quincy! Godammit!

Why is Quincy on at 3am?  It used to have a nice 4pm slot that gave me an excellent reason for a sit down and a cuppa.  Now, I can only watch it if upstairs are having one of their 'Let's drop billiard balls on our marble flooring' parties.

Have (over past few weeks) had to resort to CSI.  At first, it seemed like 40mins of 6 people staring at a piece of lint and the final 5mins of all 6 pointing to the actor with the least symmetrical face and going: 'It was him what done it' and then the credits.  Oh yes, and then me going: 'Bloody Jerry Bruckheimer'.

But now I'm into it.  I even love the 'hey, look at this piece of lint' stories.  The only thing that gets me is why the buggery they never turn the lights on; they just stumble about in the dark with torches.  Quincy turned the light on.  I don't think he ever had a torch.

Total monsoon today, lago di Como in garden.  Will admit, but don't tell: am very antsy-pantsy.  Waiting to hear if Ms. Reid likes my barmy book.  Keep looking at inbox, wandering around flat and sighing - am saddest sad sack in England.  I mean, chances are she'll start reading and then get stitch from laughing.

I may take up stone-masonry.  Or hair-dressing.  Or losing the will to live.

No comments:

Post a Comment