I have a perfect wiggle. Our dance teacher was ecstatic about it. 'Doesn't it feel good?' he said. 'Oh, yes,' I simpered. I would have agreed with anything I was so pleased to have some praise. After the previous night's disaster a compliment on wiggling my ears would have had the same response.
If I ever needed convincing that I have the co-ordination of a blind wombat, Thursday night's drumming would have done it. I have no control over my left hand. Very little over my right but slightly more than my left. Woe is me. Alun and Angelo were very sweet and encouraging when I told them. I am practising. Both, right, left, right, both. So far I cannot even manage this let alone trying to think about one while doing the other.
Tim O thinks there is enough evidence on my blog to have me sectioned. I do not think that is the kind of thing you should say to someone's mother, who is old and ... um old. I do not believe him anyhow. I'm sure everyone thinks like me. Although, possibly, they do not say so out loud. But then not many people have woken up and thought that they might be dead.
I am so disgusted at the failure of my diet that we are having bread and cheese and lots of it for tea. I have made some yummy onion bread. At least I expect it will be lovely.
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