Having started my drawing and painting class at The Lichfield Campus I found I had to go out and buy quite a lot of equipment and it’s the sort of equipment you can’t always find in a high street store.  So I was recommended The Tales Press on Dam Street.  What a wonderful little shop it is, it reminded me of The Old Curiosity Shop.  They have everything an artist needs and a very helpful gentleman is there to offer assistance. So I got my graphite pencils, a putty rubber and a set of pastels.  I could have browsed in there all day but had to pull myself away as Beryl was waiting with her Lancashire Hot Pot.  The Tales Press Craft Shop, Dam Street, Lichfield, WS13 6AE.  01543 256777.

After dinner Beryl went back on the vodka bottle and I got out a bag of chocolate limes which I’d bought while on a day out at Blackpool.  I love chocolate limes and get a real sense of achievement when I flick them from one side of my mouth to the other.  Tiddles says it’s an annoying habit but I don’t care.  So Tiddles and I settled in front of the TV to watch Coronation Street and in particular Norris who I have great admiration for, not that I’m one to gossip.  I popped a chocolate lime into my mouth and slurped away.  Shock horror!  Come on, I know a chocolate lime when I taste one and this chocolate lime was decidedly unchocolatey and unlimey.  Not a patch on the ones you can get from the high street super markados.  They really are the best, very limey and when you crunch into the middle you get a lovely milky chocolate surprise.  I was so disappointed with this sweet that I spat it out and Tiddles caught it in her fishing net on the other side of the room.  Beryl found me later trying to hang myself from a light fitting which had brought the ceiling of the master bedroom down.  She was not happy so I gave her a vodka and tonic to calm her down, always works.  The following morning Beryl went round to the local butcher and bought a leg of lamb, hit me round the head with it three times and then roasted it in rosemary and olive oil.  We chatted that night, in the bathroom because there was no floor space to stand on in the master bedroom and we came to an agreement that Beryl would stay at the local butchers until the master bedroom ceiling is replaced.  Do you think I am being naïve?  Should I trust her with a man who has a wealth of frozen sausages?