I am doing well in my resolve to swim front crawl like David Walliams rather than ladylike breast stroke like my aged mother-in-law. I am building it up slowly and I find it rather exhausting as well as giving me a raging appetite. I then eat far more than I have expended so it's really most unproductive.
Off to see Antonia Rolls at St James Piccadilly ce soir where she is exhibiting A Graceful Death which I always call the Grateful Dead by mistake. I love her paintings and the ones of spooky dead people are fabulous. It seems to increase as more people die.
I have managed to start estate agent wars at the seaside. Good. They will all fight to get my flat sold first. I had an email of such rudeness from Clamydia Lydia I might not give her any money at all. I am not contractually obliged to anyway but being a good sort I will probably see her right though Mr Smith doesn't see why. Then I will leave there and never have to see her again.
Agent Annie has sold another two of my paintings. She's such a gem.
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