Yesterday evening

I cooked the most boring meal imaginable, but ate what I'd slopped up. Then I sat down to The Reptile, which was so appallingly bad it wasn't even funny. It really annoyed me, so I marched out with the right hump at seven to partake of something to calm me down. I got to the pub and was glad that I didn't know anyone there, however the piped music soon wound me up. So did the silly tarts who were drinking at the bar, giggling and cackling their little heads orf. That was that. I went home and put on The Witches followed by Demons of the mind. They are supposed to be horror films. Horror? Don't make me laugh. The only horrific things I could see were Joan Fontaine's hairdos, and the terrible clothes. Bed at ten.