July 5th, 1990
Hectic day with the young cousins at the pictures (dreadful film called, “Look Who’s Talking,”) followed by shopping and ice cream at John Lewis.
Managed to escape to Florence’s tonight.
“It’s not that I don’t like them,” I sighed, knocking back more than a gulp of wine that went down far too easily. “I’m just not used to being around needy kids.”
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“That you see them as needy when I see them as just being kids.”
“Ugh, they’re annoying!”
She cracked up laughing. “You’re such an only child.”
“I am, I really am! There’s no hope for me!”
“How’s your mum’s sister, is she getting on your nerves as well?”
“Don’t get me started. I mean, she can be fun sometimes but she’s even more needy than the kids.”
Florence nodded her head. “That’s the impression I got the other day. She’s nothing like your mum.”
“No, not at all. My mum, as you very well know could never be considered selfish.”
“Never. Liz is great. They do look alike though.”
“Totally but I don’t think you’d take them for ten years apart.”
“No, your mum looks much younger.”
“She does. Oh well, family stuff.”
“Tell me about it. I suppose it’s lucky you’re working again tomorrow,” she said, topping up my wine glass.
“Thanks, that’s lovely.”
“Where are you going again?” she asked. “I can’t keep track.”
“I don’t know, I’m back on standby first thing in the morning, so don’t let me drink too much.”
Florence never listens. I love that about her!