What’s happening at your end, Jimmy? It’s been quite a while. Mine is a bit uncertain at the moment. Paul phoned to tell me he had spoken to Barclays. He has made arrangements to send me a further (new amount) to arrive here at a specific time this morning. I telephoned Federal Express, and a young lady gave me the information I need, so we’ll see.
There have been few reasons for me to think about my “Bully Boss” in recent years, but the Jeffrey Express bus had the sort of heating on yesterday that I first experienced at Swimer House in 1986. I have suffered it several times since, too, including in this very hotel room.
Nothing is sacred, as you know, my dear Jimmy. So, please read between the lines. I mentioned last time about the several thousand passengers who have disappeared in one area of the United States alone. I began to think about these areas like Florida, and my overactive mind started working overtime.
They call us “The Windrush Generation,” but I never came to England on any banana boat. I flew in from Kingston to London on a TWIA flight and was there in under 12-hours from door-to-door. I had no desire whatsoever to be cooped up onboard a ship at sea with all and sundry for weeks on end.