Actually, my mother and Alfie came for three weeks' Christmas vacation and stayed for 21 years. I guess my mother never went back because she was lonely.
I just have to proceed as usual. No matter what happens, nothing helps with the writing of the next book.
They all went into the bar business. Which was a mistake, because they began to sip at the merchandise and it set them back, set us all back. Well, them more than I.
We never really had any kind of a Christmas. This is one part where my memory fails me completely.
There's so much absurdity. Poverty is so absurd.