Just me then!

Just me then!
Yesterday there was a party for Slack Alice's sister Olwyn.
"Are you coming to the Railway Club?" Asks she and her barmy daughter.
"What for?" asks me, not unreasonably. Well, I don't like pubs and clubs, full off tossers who get too much drink in themselves and start rows, especially when it's an all-family matter, there's always somebody. Besides that, it is the cost. For what I pay for a round is the same as I would pay for a bottle of whisky. I'm not tight but I don't allow people to take the piss. Not only that, I don't drink, so all I get out of a round is a glass of coke, so fuck that.
"No," says myself, "I am not going. Tell Olwyn that I was going to come dressed as Tarzan but I didn't want her to get excited the poor ould boiler."
It still cost me eighty quid somehow, what with taxis and stuff. Busses are not good enough for Madam Bovary and Helen of Sunderland.
They left and that was me, Charlie and Khan with the house to ourselves while they fucked off to the docks to do favours for sailors as far as I know, or care.
One of them turned up about half one in the morning and the other came back after I had gone to bed.
Call me Shirley if you like but why would anybody pay eighty quid for the privilege of staying awake while a couple of party girls decide to turn up so I can lock the poxy front door?
Does nobody else mind that?
Just me then.