At drinks I heard that someone in Cartwright Mansions had sought help during a heart-attack by banging on a party wall with the base of a stuffed owl. Hamish, apparently, got that little nugget into the Reader's' Digest. Tom, youngish, asked me what the Reader's Digest was, please. I said it was a magazine/book hybrid that taught people to give a tracheotomy with a bic biro and to say "Christmas bauble" in Serbo-Croat.
'Oh, and it condenses books down into happy endings,' I over-egged the pudding. 'Jane Eyre ended in five and a half chapters, with Mr Rochester's partially severed arm growing back.'
Gin does that to me...
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