In the middle of packing I found this

scrawled on a notebook...

I wish I was in England.

She tries to hide her 'Bugs Bunny' teeth behind her 'Chris Eubank' lips. It never works. Her face is splattered with freckles, maybe a design by Andy Warhol. Her neck seems to shrink as every year goes by. Ginger hair or is it GINGer is one of her better features. It serves a s a warning, like a danger sign with a skull on it.
No one would want to come near her anyway. Her 1986 shell suit she bought as maternity wear then, seems to be all she has left that fits her. She's never been able to wash out that historic stain on the jacket. Stain, yeah that's her. A blotch, a big blotch. I'm married to that fucking bitch.

'Billy' she shouts, as sweetly as she can.
'Wa' Billy shouts back 'What you want you fucking lazy bitch?'
'Billy' She says trying to sound sweet. 'I'd love a cup of tea'.
Billy walks in from the kitchen and stands over her as she sits on her re-enforced chair kindly supplied by the occupational therapy department.
'Can you not get up today, off your fucking throne?'.
'Please Billy'.

Billy was the exact opposite. Six foot three, short dark wavy hair, brown eyes and very thin. Billy never stopped.He couldn't sit down. Always on the move, doing something.
'No I won't, you can get up off your fucking 'hippo hole' and waddle over to the kettle yourself' Billy said, lighting another cigarette.
'I'm away to the travel agents. I'm going on fucking holiday. Over to England, maybe Blackpool' Billy said slowly in between sucking hard at his cigarette.He blew small puffs of smoke directed at the yellow ceiling.
'Maybe it's a bit more pleasant there, they say it's the green and pleasant land'.
Billy walked over to the fire, lifted the fire-guard aside and threw his cigarette butt into the ashes.Lighting another one and after another drag he whispered 'I wish I was in England, their patron saint killed all the dragons'.