Irmani

Regular follower? Then you will know that Jour dix and Jour onze were actually Trump-related rants. Oddly (or so it always seems to me) each was stumbled upon by bloggers who are now following me. My apologies to them if they thought they were in for a daily dose of high quality satire. Most days, as regulars know, this is simply an attempt to force myself to write something – anything – every day.

The good news from yesterday was the satirical juices were obviously running. The bad news, as it wasn’t a Journal de chien noir entry, was that no daily affirmation was made with the inevitable results. Instead of spending the afternoon doing final prep for my friend Irmani’s arrival from London today, I spent a good chunk of it playing stupid fucking spider solitaire. Sigh. Oh, well. Toxic water under the bridge.

John Grisham will not be proud of me today. This is almost certainly not going to be a full page. Not sure it will even make the original black dog diary target of fifteen minutes. Just checking in, then back to visitor prep.

The arrival of a visitor is a heady prospect. Company! Conversation in the evening! Or, for that matter, any part of the day! (With the best will in the world one cannot get a decent conversation out of either of the cats.)

I will do my best to get something posted while Irmani is here, but no promises. Sit alone at the keyboard or sit out on the deck talking to a friend? Hmm. I can see where that choice is likely to go.

Who is Irmani? A delightful young woman I met when I was working for Homeless Link in 2006. We first got to know and like one another in the pub after work or meeting up outside for a smoke. As is invariably the case with the blossoming of this sort of work friendship it took an away-from-work outing to cement things. In our case it was the discovery that we were both fans of Daniel Craig and were both eagerly awaiting the release of Casino Royale. We went to see it together at the Ritzy in Brixton, where she was then living. (In Brixton, not actually at the Ritzy.) Unfortunately the Ritzy had a well-stocked bar, including wine sold by the bottle which could be consumed in the cinema itself. With a great deal of wine consumed (and no dinner) we both fell asleep during the film, but it was a fun outing nonetheless.

After that there were dinners at each other’s homes, restaurant meals after work, other films, plays – all the things you do with friends in London. (Along with a very memorable Saturday in Knightsbridge – a full entry in its own right.)

She propped me up when the man I loved killed himself in 2008. I was the first person she told about shagging a work mate. In 2013 I went back to London for the last time to attend her wedding to that shaggy shag, the delightful Jonno, who truly is her soulmate.

A good friend. A delightful friend. I know we will have a lot of fun together while she’s here, because we always have a lot of fun. Fun is good.

Can’t wait to pick her up from the Gabriola airport.

I kid you not. That shack on the dock is the check-in for the float plane.

Well, whaddaya know? I did write a page. Grisham target met.