I had to go and see a man about a lozenge, but he was at a tangent. He suggested I take a wafer. I have written elsewhere, at some length, about wafers, and I do not intend to repeat that pretty little escapade, not when I am standing at the bottom of a staircase down which I fully expect a ghoul to traipse. Upon the descent of the ghoul, I shall climb the staircase myself and enter the chamber from which it has been expelled.
My arrival may well cause consternation. A ghoul leaves, and almost immediately afterwards a chubby man wearing filthy gloves appears. When I use the word â€˜chubbyâ€™ I am referring to my inner chubby man, you understand, my shadow self, the man I would be in my dreams.
I do not know who awaits me in the upper chamber, although I now know that whoever it is will half expect me to be carrying a wafer. I can use the filthiness of my gloves as an excuse for not doing so. It is an excuse I have flourished on many occasions, not always successfully. Like the ghoul, I have been expelled from chambers and attics and parlours and even from cow sheds.
But I will not be expelled from the chamber at the top of the staircase, for it is written that I shall dwell therein, unto the last trump. I am waiting for the ghoul to be thrust out, all dignity rinsed out of it, out out out, and then I shall rise up, a chubby man puffing up the staircase, and I shall take possession of my final chamber.