Sunday Lunch
Today we were out to lunch, lunch with old friends. Not only were the friends old, but the friendships were half a century old too.
It’s a funny thing with friends... you don’t notice their age until you realise how long you’ve known them. Today’s old friends included one old friend we’d not seen for over thirty years. The extremely diminutive Fiona had lived in the Western Isles, Mallorca and Greece. But now she was back to tell tales of her travels, testing times and wayward husbands... tiny, pretty and very, very loud. In fact, just as we’d remembered her.
- Category: True Stories Told As Fiction
6 comments add one below
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Christopher almost 2 years ago
Glad to see you posting again, mate.
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Neville Hunt almost 2 years ago
Thanks Christopher. I hope to be back in the saddlr soon🙂. I’ve had quite a bit of k-rap to deal with here although Mrs H has had more.
I have been energised watching the final series of The Split, a seriously good three-series drama about a gang of female divorce lawyers, one of whom is played by Annabel Scholey, who would be my choice to play Sofia in Fedeltà, if I could get off my arse and finish it! But I will try...
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Christopher almost 2 years ago
That's good to hear! I would like to know how that story turns out.
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Frenchie almost 2 years ago
Oh I hope Mrs H. is ok now. Wishing both well. Nice drabble. <3
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Neville Hunt almost 2 years ago
Thanks Frenchie. She seems to be back to normal now. I don’t get away with being so untidy any more 😬
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Richard Hunt almost 2 years ago
Sounds as if she is normal. A bit like I find here at home!
