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I live a retired life. No-one invites me anywhere (thank goodness.) And then I get two big-deal invitations for the same evening.
Invitation #1 is for a book launch at the Bosnian embassy. I wrote the preface to said book. I'm not going because it's too far, Ailz has a hospital appointment that day and the thought of being on display like that and having to pretend to be some sort of expert on Bosnian poetry (which I'm not) gives me the heebie-jeebies.
Invitation #2 is for the preview of an exhibition of paintings and drawings by an ex-girlfriend. I probably will go to this one because it's not too far, I'm interested to see what Wendy is up to these days and, even though the prospect of having to make light, tinking conversation over the chardonnay is pretty repulsive, I won't have to pretend to be anything other than a punter.
Invitation #1 is for a book launch at the Bosnian embassy. I wrote the preface to said book. I'm not going because it's too far, Ailz has a hospital appointment that day and the thought of being on display like that and having to pretend to be some sort of expert on Bosnian poetry (which I'm not) gives me the heebie-jeebies.
Invitation #2 is for the preview of an exhibition of paintings and drawings by an ex-girlfriend. I probably will go to this one because it's not too far, I'm interested to see what Wendy is up to these days and, even though the prospect of having to make light, tinking conversation over the chardonnay is pretty repulsive, I won't have to pretend to be anything other than a punter.
