Maybe it will all turn out OK and Michael won’t tell anyone about my imaginary inheritance. In the meantime there are no obvious signs this firm is in trouble. The client list has not shrunk. They’re refurbishing the upper offices. The MD was whistling in the toilets this morning. Could Michael be mistaken? Why would he lie to me about something like that?
Anyhoo, last night Rachel was ranting bitterly about male/female relationships, and how they are a scary meat-market. So if you are a woman over thirty-five, basically your market value has declined tragically, so you have to pick a man who is:
1) less attractive than you
2) less wealthy than you, or
3) less classy than you
Other things that cause a woman to have to lower her standards severely in the hope of getting laid are:
1) being larger than size 12
2) having a past (ie divorced and ranting about it)
3) being accompanied everywhere by nightmare small child called something like Max or Rupert.
So according to Rache if I was divorced and had a nightmare kid the only person who’d ever go out with me would be a hideously misshapen tramp. This can’t be right.
I think prolonged contact with her nightmare cat Oskar has depressed Rachel too much.
