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Friend returned to his new done up flat yesterday. Apparently he was dolorous at first - it wasn't the black pit of despair he had known and loved - but the lady who has done most of the work stayed with him, talked to him, groomed his hair a little... the fact that he trusted her with scissors is very important, as was his voluntary bath and hairwash in the morning. Fingers crossed for him; the house won't stay spick and span nor will it be his home until he has imposed some mess upon it, but as a friend observed, it will be a clean mess. So this then is hopefully the beginning, or the beginning of hope. My fingers are crossed for his happiness. Let's be done with sorrow for this year!

To that end, we were visiting my Spanish cousin, his girlfriend and her visiting mother and aunt. They said they would put 'some appetisers'* out, so we decided to be wise and eat first, a pizza down in Blackheath. I had forgotten the feeding powers of Spanish Mothers. We turned up, nicely replete, only to be greeted with a table groaning under plates of nosh and a follow up paella. Manners and deliciousness required that we stuff our faces a second time. I needed to be rolled home and can't face breakfast even now.

They gave us a gift, I have no idea why, but it's quite fun; a mosaic lamp with a very slight steampunk air to it. Looks great on the mantelpiece. More relatives are coming next weekend. I must try not to eat my own body weight in food in some crazy attempt to be polite. Right now my stomach is making ominous sounds. Pressing it, even gently, would be a foolhardy venture.

*Their quotes, not mine.

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