Senior citizen Daphne makes a plan to make friends to re-integrate herself into society, as it were. She doesn't have any friends, having lead a seemingly "interesting" life. As in, she can pick locks, knows how to open a safe without the combination, and knows about guns. Also, how to deal with punks.
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She Googled "hookup," which, it transpired, was all about sex. Daphne hadn't had sex for over fifteen years, and wasn't sure it all still worked.
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The building appeared to be suffering from both rising damp and dry rot. One would have thought that these two afflictions might meet in the middle and cancel each other out, but apparently not.
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She appeared to have jumped out of the frying pan of sexism and into the fire of ageism. The final frontier of isms.
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He said "luxury apartments" in the tone that most people would use to say "rat-infested slum."
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dauphinoise potatoes. -- There is them potatoes again!!
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"whteveur," said art, in a cod fench accent. -- I have NO idea what "cod fench" means!
I am writing this even though I have not finished the book. I was reading along this evening and it occurred to me that all of a sudden I liked this book very much. The first have was kind of OK, I had been thinking, but right about the half-way mark I had this revelation. So, we shall see how it goes...
Later: Yes, this book is fabulous! Gave me a lot to think about.
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"Here, do it harder," said Iona, leaning forward across the table and giving him a hefty thump with a closed fist, which she found rather more enjoyable than she should have done, given the circumstances.
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"It was an earwig," said Piers. "Eric."
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When, Iona wondered, had people started reaching out, instead of merely calling?
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Harry picked up his pillow, held it in front of him, and, with surprising amount of force, plunged his fist into it several times. "Take that, you arrogant, annoying bastard," he said.
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"Who'd have thought I'd end up basing my life choices on an eccentric lesbian?"