Tour Guide

Up town to pick up my monstrously expensive new glasses and sunglasses. They’re so precious I decide to clear out a special drawer once back home to keep them pristine. I may use them at the son’s wedding or something. My own funeral, perhaps.
Talking of the son, that’s who I met next - back from his two week sojourn in Copenhagen which he enjoyed immensely, particularly cycling about with young Danes who by all accounts, I mean his account, are an agreeable race of people. 
Later, a French film, The Night of the 12th, which happily has subtitles so we don’t miss any of the dialogue. Very satisfying and realistic. It’s an important point that seems to be overlooked in so many homegrown dramas. As Harrison Ford said to George Lucas, "you can type this shit, but you can't say it." I was there. I heard him say it. I said, Harrison, you can’t say that to George! He wheeled round to me, spittle on his old cracked lips, and barked, whatttdaya mean I can't, and who are you anyway, you Godddam nobody? Get me a fucking Jack Daniels and then clear off.
All true.