Above my head, on the ceiling in the room where I work, a curious red stain has mysteriously appeared. And if I lean back in my chair and squint at it I can clearly make out the face of Dudley Moore. I've no idea why cuddly Dudley should suddenly appear to me like this but he's not causing any real offence. In the wee small hours I sometimes talk to it for company and sometimes it answers, often it doesn't; it's a bit surly for a stain. But luckily enough I've a rubber plant in the hall that looks like Peter Cook and I just can't shut that up at all. So what I'm going to do is move my drawing stuff to the hall and carry the rubber plant upstairs to the room with the Dudley stain, close the door and leave them to it.
I know the Arthur Lowe pattern in the hall carpet's just itching to bother me though.
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