I've been invited to Droopy's birthday party! I haven't seen him for over a decade. A hundred years ago (when the Tories were in power) we used to work together selling theatre tickets for West End shows. The pay was crap but the perks were good. Free theatre tickets to new shows and sunny lunchtimes with a bottle of wine and punnet of strawberries in Soho Gardens.
Ah! I'm so excited!
Will he remember my faux pas?
"I'd like a refund on our Miss Saigon tickets please," said the lady. "We were coming to see the show last week and we lost my father on the way."
"Oh I'm sorry, I hope you found him."
"He's DEAD."
I went into teaching after that for it wasn't only financial ruin where I was heading, though they didn't sack me. No, I didn't teach here, I went far far away where I might make some money. Back then the Tories did nothing to lift me out of poverty.
Today I am not 'working' obviously but I am sparing a thought for those who do. And yes, I'm going to have a drink, it's a birthday party after all, rude not to!
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