This morning… well, I say morning, it was more like early afternoon, actually… I woke up to some movement outside the house. Not being quite awake I went outside in my light blue pyjama with clouds on it. I saw possibly three or four women (or was that supposed to be “three or four possible women”?) lurking around, sneaking a peak at Kenny’s BMW. So I got out, both dogs following me, and stopped behind the gates. One of the women, all looking like they were in their late 30’s/my age, saw me and started screaming. I took a step back as she came charging towards the gates and for some reason she didn’t quite register that there were black iron bars between her and me. So she ran, didn’t stop in time (in fact, it didn’t look like she was going to stop at all!), smacked her head against the bars and fell straight on her back. I stood still, watching her lying there, looked up at her friends who stood absolutely dumbstruck with their mouths wide open.
“Are you all right?” I finally asked. She grunted and nodded as she sat up. “Looking for something?” I wondered. They looked at each other, one ended up saying ‘no’ so I went back inside to watch “Flog It”. Two hours later, when Kenny returned from the Heath, he said there were some women hanging around outside. He had talked to them and they said I had been lurking around in a nightgown. (A nightgown!?) I really don’t like people coming here. Not just fans, people. Andy (Wham!) recently came around here for the first time ever. I don’t know if he was that impressed, mumbling something about having a few dozen acres of land at home in bloody Cornwall. (Yeah, he would, wouldnt he, living in the middle of nowhere.) I’ve had this house for ****ing decades and only now has he been arsed to come down here. Whatever.
George
