Waiting For Yousaf

We took a desk to Keith and Ruth's. It was my father's. He gave it to me when he got a better one, I've had it for several decades and now I'm giving it to my brother-in-law, who seems to have a use for it. We were hoping to get rid of a lot of furniture in the upheaval, but this is the only substantial item that's gone.

Ruth gave us coffee and chocolates. She'd eaten all the nutty ones out of the box and was happy for us to browse freely over what was left- which was excellent, because I've always liked the soft centres best.

According to Ailz's reading of the Mail, Keith Richards has effectively sunk the Stones by writing lots of bitchy things about Jagger in his book. You'd think extreme fame and wealth and adulation would cure a person of jealousy, but apparently not. Richards still smarts over all sorts of things Jagger once did. 

We're  waiting for Mr Yousaf to turn up with his builders and his bricks. He rang a few minutes ago to ask me if I'd unlock the alley gate for him.  

Holes

Douglas and Gerry- two old men, about my age, Mr Yousaf calls them "the lads"- have spent the day making holes in the kitchen walls.

I've been trying to live a normal life. I cooked lunch in my holey kitchen while Gerry did things with bricks just feet away on the other side of one of the holes. Douglas asked me if I followed football and I said I did- though I don't really- because I want these men to like me and be gentle with my house.  He then asked me what team I supported and I said Manchester United because that's Ruth's team. He made some comment in broad Scouse at which I smiled and nodded. He supports Liverpool and Gerry supports Chelsea.

They've left the kitchen with boards over its two holes - and say they'll be back tomorrow to make a third.