Jellied Smiths

Mr Smith took me out to a fish restaurant where me met Mr Smith, his brother, and Mrs Smith, his mother. I thought I'd try jellied eels. They were really nasty and boney but you have to try things to know you hate them. I wouldn't have minded my bad choice if my brother-in-law hadn't tucked into a lovely lobster. We then had Hake and Chips and that was pretty horrible too; something about the texture of the fish - blanketty. The chips were really pale and really the whole thing was not quite my cup of tea at all. This morning I have an upset stomach which I suspect was from the copious glasses of wine I drank rather than the food.

I don't open bank statements. I don't like seeing the bottom figure compared to the top one, unless there has been a massive injection recently then I might, just to feel all rich and happy until I hand over my money to Robin Hood (Mr Smith, a man who specialises in taking from the rich to give to the poor, namely himself.) He keeps me a bit short so I have to go with begging bowl in hand and plead for more money. There then ensues a conversation along the lines of "You can't want more money woman, I gave you £3.50 last week." Well, OK, it might be a bit more than £3.50. Then we have to have the "How much on shoes?" conversation - I love that one! This month we have the Louis Vuitton handbag. Perhaps I had better open my bank statement and see just how dreadful this altercation is going to be.