And my hands. My pockets are somewhere to put my hands. I put my hands in my pockets because, Frances, sometimes I like to put my hands in my pockets.
Thanks for your help with the Tuesday class this morning, but it wasn’t necessary. Attendance was poor and one of the children was sick in the pool.
When I went to get a long-handled net, you put a severed finger in my pocket. If this is Philip Schofield’s finger, I’m going to be furious. Numbers are down, Frances, and the numbers we do have spill their stomachs or stick photographs of Coleen Nolan in the lockers.
There are many things I keep in my pockets that I haven’t mentioned yet: coins, travel cards, hastily-scrawled unattributed telephone numbers.
Coleen Nolan in the lockers, Frances.
I don’t want to have to write to you again.