Lifelong disappointmentFollow

For my birthday, Desmond bought me an exquisite pair of sugar tongs. “A girl like you shouldn’t be touching sugar,” he said, plainly oblivious to the fact that I am a 31 year old man with sideburns. I’ve started leaving catalogues open on the pages featuring ornate gravy boats - I do hope he gets the message. That I want a gravy boat. Otherwise I’ll have to resort to wailing “woe, to live without a gravy boat”.

Silly old Desmond will try to dress me in frocks and suchlike, and when I complain it is his delightful habit to put his large hands over my face until I pass out. When I wake, it is always wearing a dress, with a localised ache in my hips, where he has attacked me stupidly with his fundament. It is a fortune that he has not found any of my holes, yet.

There was a woman in Ealing Sainsbury’s Local yesterday. She was pushing her shopping trolley around, and asking, “Is this the bread?”

I laughed. There’s nothing funnier than a woman walking past some Dolmio, squinting suspiciously, and asking “Is this the bread?”

What made it even funnier - to my mind - was the utterly unfriendly way she was barking it at no-one in particular. She didn’t look like she wanted an answer, she seemed perfectly self-contained and willing to walk up and down the two small aisles forever.

Then she changed her tactic. “Excuse me, I can’t see. Can you tell me where the bread is?”

Well, that explained something. She wasn’t insane, just a grumpy blind.

I followed her briefly, hiding behind things and being as stealthy as you have to be, when you’re following blind people.

That night, Duncan and I kissed for the first time. Well, I say kiss. He ate some chips out of my palm, which is as good as.