I have to get ready for my blind date with Gerald, so, quick summary of trip to Devon. Perfect ponies. Luscious lambs. Gorgeous goats. Love them all.
In Whitchurch spent one night getting drunk and talking to strangers at The Whitchurch Inn. It was originally built by monks about 1 million years ago. Bless the brothers for their beery good works.
Stopped at Country Cheeses for artisanal cheese and made a fool of myself shoveling fistfuls of soft cheese into my mouth. It was literally smeared on my face and I couldn't stop, I dove right back into the wrapper for another fistful.
Saturday night is expensive social real estate--my excuse is, I have just about no friends here. But Gerald, my blind date--why does he have Saturday free? I have a bad feeling about this. I just know he's either a perve, or cheap. Possibly both. Anyways, I have to run and put on something lovely. And of course, you can never wear too much make-up and perfume. Gobs of both, put on with paint rollers and soup ladels. More details tomorrow as to how date went.
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Hello pet! I do hope your blind date with Gerald is ever so pleasing. I heard from Snooks that although he has quite femanine hands he does know how to use them in the most rigorous and soothing way on one's weary shoulders. Do watch for roaming though darling as Blaine says Ger's lady hands do like to wander once he has a bevie or two! Hopefully you won't be too put off by his simple chronic halitosis - I know on good source from Mother's friend Mrs. Chesterfield that he has been to see Dr. Abernathy repeatedly but they cannot seem to find a cure for the awful stench, poor dear. Speaking of the Chesterfield's, I hear Brock arrived a fortnight ago from his expedition in India. Have you seen him yet? Oh, I do know it must be hard and I wonder if you two will ever sort our that summer in Cambridge. Well, must be off. Toodles! ~Poppie
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