My car and I have made our final voyage together. Please see yesterday's entry for thoughts around this.
What I will tell you is this - in full support of my stand-up career, my car has striven to represent me comedically: the driver's door flies open at inappropriate moments, the passenger side gets wet when it rains... and today, in an impressive display of comic timing, the rear windscreen wiper flung itself off at 85 mph. It's nice to have such an empathic vehicle.
We have said our goodbyes, and tomorrow it will pose with me for a final photo shoot.
When I got back to London a few days ago, I had a Christmas card in my letter box. Unusually, the envelope said who the card was from, rather than its addressee. It said, "From your neighbour no. 31". The inside of the card said pretty much the same.
Now, I know number 31 to say hello to. But do not know his name. Therefore, wouldn't this be the perfect opportunity to get acquainted? Could he not have written, "From John (no. 31)"? No way. This is London and we must be anonyous at all times. Obviously I sent one back to him, "Have a great new year. From no. 32".
London is a strange place.
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