| Update II |
[29 Dec 2008|03:29pm] |
Ok - a bit of quick background: Computer died - as did enthusiasm - so I decided to take some time out and recharge my batteries. Well, actually, I intended to buy a new computer and carry on but incisive action was never my strongest trait and, before I knew it, time had passed and ... well... here I am again - at the Mater House at Xmas - using the Mater crystal set with tin cans & string add-on.
So what happened over the last year? Obviously I had a number of torrid love affairs that ended terribly; I travelled extensively (to heal the wounded heart); I lost 4 inches off my Rubenesque hips; took up the clarinet and played at The Albert Hall and - oh yes - won the lottery. And if you believe any of that, you'll believe anything.
Nothing happened. De nada. I worked every hour the big man sent, never got off the island, put weight on and let my hair go grey. And as for torrid love affairs, I don't think anything with a battery counts - or does it?
And so to 2009. Things are going to change! Probably won't have much access to a computer until Spring (due to work on the house) but I intend to have much more "me time" (hopefully managed and not because I have been made redundant) and, even if I can't get to a computer, I will write some postings for when I eventually do. I might even resurrect the idea of the book. And join the gym. And find a new hairdresser.
Oh foolish musings! How thee taunt me!
XX
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| Tempus Fugit |
[27 Dec 2008|04:45pm] |
I only stepped out for a newspaper ..... ;-)
A peaceful and prosperous new year to anyone who may be reading this.
Normal service may be resumed in 2009.
XX
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| It lives! |
[29 Aug 2007|08:24pm] |
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mood |
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 cranky |
] |
Well, it just about has a pulse....
On Saturday I visited what passes for a department store on the island (2 racks of Jacques Vert and a handkerchief display that's been there since 1924). The reason for my visit was exactly the same as it always is. I'd read an article which extolled the virtues of XYZ creme. The magic word was mentioned. Rejuvenate. The fact that it was 20 squillion pounds an ounce, had more packaging than you'd find in a 6 year olds "pass the parcel" game and contained the genitalia of Mongolian sheep-herders was not going to stop me. No sirree - gimme that fountain of eternal youth - and gimme it NOW!
So there I am, peering over my bifocals and checking that I wasn't picking up the genitalia-free version, when a male voice whispered in my ear: "'Ello, what eez it zat I can 'elp you wiz?" "It's Pepe Le Pew!" I thought as I turned round to face the voice. And there Pepe was. At least 50 years old, long flowing dyed-black hair - and wearing full make-up, pearl-drop earrings and a chiffon scarf thrown nonchalantly over his Armani suit.
Ok, now I appreciate that this next comment may make me eligible for a Diversity training re-sit - but I don't want to discuss my "gentle signs of aging" with a man in drag. I don't want to compare mascaras with a baritone. I don't want to know what flash balm he's using this week under his flawless Chanel foundation. I want a vacuous 19 year old girl in pink, who talks in a high-pitched whine and who knows nothing about anti-peptides but everything about Big Brother. I want that girlie who can hardly open her mouth due to the amount of lip-gloss but who will, when assessing my complexion, smirk in a superior manner and state "J-cloth".
So I left. Empty handed. Empty handed and haggard.
Life is so damned tough on me.
XX
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| Quick Update |
[31 May 2007|08:54pm] |
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mood |
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 tired |
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I have been very lax with this old Journal thing. I must remedy this and put aside some time each week to update.
So, what's new?
Work
I've been elevated. Not physically. I haven't been sent up a floor but I have been given one of only 6 offices. The other 130 minions have to sit in open office. There was lot's of "ooohing" and "aahhhing" as befits the occasion. It's only a matter of time before I get the key to the executive bathroom. Mind you, I'm convinced I would only find a urinal in there. But I'm sure it's gold-plated. AndI guess I could.... no, maybe not.
Family
I went "home" for a week to see Mother who is fast resembling Steve Austin. She now has a new hip as well as two new knees. She is walking, for some strange reason, with her legs apart and on two crutches and reminds me, very forcibly, of the baddie in Spiderman. The Alfred Molina role. Can't think of the character name. Anyway, I gauge(sp?) her recuperation by how laden down the 'fridge is in readiness for my arrival. It was heaving so I presume she is doing ok. Either that or she has cunningly discovered how to order her groceries online.
Study
Complete and utter disaster. Am finding no time at all to do this and am deferring the August exam. If I can't find the time in the next semester I will have to pay back the £7,000 the company shelled out for me.
Me Time
That would be the hours between 11pm and 3am, right? I am having occasional me time - lunch out now and again, shopping splurges. I still need my fix of buying anything and everything that promises to take 10 years off my face. If only I could something for my body that didn't involve a scalpel and sutures. I am too much of a baby to do anything like that.
I'm hoping to cross two things off my "Life To Do" list in the next couple of months -learn to cut hair and read the news on the radio. I'll keep you posted on those as they progress. Trust me, there are more "interesting" items on the list - not that I am going to share those with you! The book continues to languish, untouched and unloved. One day.
I am going on holiday next month for 3 1/2 weeks. Another cruise, this time around Scandinavia and the Baltic and including Germany, Poland and St Petersburg. It's basically a tour of all the future Eurovision Song Content winners. 18 destinations, I think. I'll post the itinerary some other time.
I do also manage the odd trip down to my favourite beach and still talk to my rock. He still doesn't answer but I know he hears everything I say. He's very dependable.
Until net time ....
XX
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| Still alive... if not exactly kicking |
[07 Apr 2007|10:35pm] |
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tired |
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I suppose it's time I updated this.
I wish I could say that I've been doing hundreds of exciting things but, truth to tell, there's not much to report apart from a certain apathy for Live Journal on my part. Work, which was already at Warp Factor 8, had notched up a couple of drives to the point where all I appear to be doing is working and sleeping. I know that "all work and no play..." but I never was very exciting so I guess it doesn't really matter.
I'm trying to think of something that I've done over the last couple of months that may be of interest. Should I tell you about my alternative Christmas?
I decided against going to Chez Mother this year and was really looking forward to having a few days to myself until I realised that absolutely nothing is open over Xmas. Could I face our days of The Vicar of Dibley and Ant and Dec's Xmas Specials, hateful Body Shop tangerine body butter and 6lb of sprouts? No. It called for drastic action and so, one 'phone call later, Xmas Day found me at the Sally Army citadel preparing and delivering Xmas dinners.
Obviously I wasn't allowed to do any actual cooking There is a strict pecking order of helpers and my elf was way down the list. However, I was allowed to dish up the meals into the containers for the home deliveries. Under orders, mind you. "Only ONE chipolata!" "Half a ladle of gravy, please" "Don't take the custard from the bottom of the pan. (It's burnt!)" "Can we make each Xmas pudding do eight?"
Eventually all the meals were in their containers and my car was packed and off I set, armed with my map, a list of names and addresses and the car heater turned up to about 120C because I was so worried they would be cold by the time I arrived. It's quite sad really just how many elderly people, even on such a wealthy island as this, have to spend Xmas on their own. I realise some do it out of choice and I know that I will be one of those some time very soon but I suspect, from the welcome I got, that some would like the company.
The highlight was Mr B who, when I got to his house, was waiting for me with his front door open and clad in his best Xmas bib and tucker - a pair of jogging trousers and a vest. He was sat at his kitchen table with his knife and fork at the ready. While I heated his dinner in his microwave we had a lovely chat about his leg and how they thought it might be gangrene and might have to come off and, obviously because it was Xmas, I was allowed a special showing of said appendage. Super. Anxious to move the conversation away from 82 year old legs, I took out the notes they had given me but which, in my hurry to deliver all these meals, I hadn't actually read.
"Oh. It says here that you're diabetic, Mr B. But they've included Xmas pudding and custard. Are you allowed that?"
"I love Xmas pudding"
"Yes, but are you allowed to eat it?"
"I love Xmas pudding"
Now laughing... "Yes, I bet you do, but would the doctor let you have it?"
"I love Xmas pudding"
What can you do? One Xmas pudding and custard coming up!
"Now don't forget to make a wish, Mr B, when you eat that!"
"Oh yes! What shall I wish for?"
"Well you might try wishing that you don't fall into a coma!"
He was still laughing when I left.
When I got back to the Hall, to hit the mountains of washing up, the Army carol singers were just finishing singing to the 30-odd old dears who were having their lunch there. I arrived to "Silent Night". It really was quite lovely.
A good Xmas Day, all in all. I might just do it again next year.
XX
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| Reports of my death... |
[08 Jan 2007|10:48pm] |
... have been greatly exaggerated.
I'll be back eventually.
Maybe.
XX
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| Gawd.... |
[20 Nov 2006|04:44pm] |
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mood |
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 amused |
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The telephone rings at Chez Mother...
Mother: "Hello?"
Caller: "Hello, this is the hearing-aid centre. You are due for your 6-monthly appointment."
Mother: "Oh, right! I can make Wednesday. What appointments do you have available?"
Caller: "We have 2.33 and 3.33"
Mother: "Oh! What very specific times you have!"
Long silence....
Caller: "Umm ... no .... we have 2.30 free and 3.30 free"
XX
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| Fall Back |
[20 Nov 2006|04:34pm] |
|
Despite the fact that the weather has been this:
http://www.guernsey-press.com/GP_on_line/scene_archive/2000/stormyrocquaine1.jpg
for the last few days, the island still doesn't understand that it's December in less than 2 weeks. The trees are full of leaves, golden and gorgeous, and the temperature is remarkably mild. Global warming? I wonder.
I'm very much a sun-baby and can't say I enjoy the dark evenings even though the clocks going back seem to whip me into a frenzy of soup making. Apart from imbibing said soup, all I want to do is snuggle down with a good book all evening. Housework, artwork, study, writing, socialising - it all comes to a halt mid-October. I wonder if Mother was frightened by a hedgehog? I've thought about getting one of those artificial light boxes but, you know what? I quite enjoy doing nothing.
And I'm very good at it.
XX
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| Whale Meat Again... Don't Know Where..Don't Know.. |
[08 Nov 2006|08:36pm] |
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Bonfire Night passed without a bag full of lit sparklers being shoved through my letterbox so I guess we should be thankful. However, the the bangs and whizzes filled the air for most of evening. It was quite the most noisy Bonfire Night I have ever known. It sounded like the opening of the Olympics. Whatever happened to the solitary catherine wheel pinned to the clothes prop, one 1/9d roman candle and dad setting light to two fruit boxes and, inadvertently, the rabbit hutch? Life is so BIG now.
Today was the November meeting of the charitable trust committee I sit on. A local fur and feather society are having a charitable angling day. Don't ask me how fur and feather collide with fish; I don't understand it, either. Anyway, I was asked, due to our (very small) donation, if I wanted to present the prizes. "Oh!" I exclaimed "At the angling dinner? Well, I do actually have a rather nifty pair of evening waders with diamante trims." My colleague looked at me and said "Oh no, it's very casual." Why do people believe everything I say? How ridiculous must I get before they realise I am joking?
Whale (*snort*), it turned out that the presentation of the prizes wasn't to take plaice (*snicker*) at the dinner but at the end of the competition. In the fish packing sheds. In the sub-zero, wet, smelly, fish packing sheds. In December. I said I cod-n't (*smirk*) make it. And besides ... all that salt would tarnish the diamante on my waders. I crabbed (*guffaw*) my papers and ran.
XX
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| Those were the days, my friend |
[01 Nov 2006|09:06pm] |
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mood |
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 nostalgic |
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I've just been listening (while studying - hence not "watching") to a tv programme called "Coast".
Various presenters travel around the coast of britain highlighting interesting history, flora and fauna, people, etc. Tonight's programme was telling of a now long-gone lido, in Hastings I think. The presenter was talking to a rather lovely elderly lady of the lido's heyday years in the 1930's.
"Oh, it was awfully jolly!" she said, in her very plummy tone. "It was always full of swimmers and there was one chap with a wooden leg, who used to set fire to it and then dive into the pool to put it out."
Makes the pool at my leisure club pale into insignificance.
XX
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| The penis mightier.... |
[31 Oct 2006|06:59pm] |
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Now, don't get me wrong, I am really not in favour of men "flashing" in public. Shaking the male genitalia in the High Street is, in my view, a ridiculous idea and, looking at what is being shaken, clear evidence that God is a woman - with a sense of humour.
However, my views were not taken into consideration by one Mr X who, according to our local newspaper, recently unzipped in front of two females. They were obviously somewhat offended by this and reported Mr X to the police. Would I have done the same? I'm not sure. I suppose if one thinks that the man might do the same in front of someone underage then action is needed but my natural reaction would have been to tut, roll my eyes and walk on. Not that I am in any way blase about seeing a penis. In fact, it's been so long since I last clapped eyes on one, I'd probably whip out my instamatic and burn a roll of film just in case I have to wait as long again.
I saw my first penis when I was aged 12. There it was, hanging before me, in all its flaccid glory and covered in body make-up. And there was I, eyes out on stalks, tightly grasping .... a piece of charcoal. When I was young, and before anyone wised-up, I was considered artistically gifted and so was given day-release from school to attend the local art school. Some people have to get a note from their Mum to get out of swimming. I had to get a note from my Mum to attend life classes. And that's where I saw my first. I can't remember the model's name but he wore a red neckerchief and plastered himself in body tan. Unfortunately, he couldn't reach the middle of his back and so looked somewhat like a human skunk. A naked human skunk.
Anyway, I digress. Back to Mr X and his appearance in court. I presume that the defence attorney discusses defence tactics with his or her client and I could, in this case, imagine the conversation.
"Please don't. Nobody will believe you"
"But it's true!"
"No, it's not"
"Yes, it is!"
However long the discussions took, Mr X's attorney could not persuade Mr X to just shut up and take his medicine. No. Mr X goes into court and pleads not guilty on the grounds that he was not holding his penis ..... he was holding a jumbo hot dog.
Three months.
XX
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| Woe, woe and thrice woe! |
[25 Oct 2006|05:08pm] |
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I wonder why I was the only one to find a recent local story so very funny?
Our water ambulance (which is a converted lifeboat) had to shoot across to Sark o pick up a sick child. Which is fine. Except for the fact that it hit rocks on the way back and had to rescued by the lifeboat.
It's nice to be homeso early for a change. I'm averaging 55 hours a week at the office at the moment which I know isn't good, but what are you meant to do if you have the work but not enough staff? The perils of living in a place with housing and work restrictions and no unemployment.
I'm only home now because I've been attending a three day course as part of my studies. The first stage was in October and, to be frank, was a dream. Company law, corporate governance, etc. My area. With that behind me I turned up this week feeling confident and very bullish. And now, after three days of high finance and interpreting balance sheets, etc., I feel like leaping, head-first, off a very high bridge. I am awash with ratio and vocabulary that has absolutely no meaning for me. So worried am I that I have just employed a Chartered Accountant and MBA friend of mine to private tutor me through to the exam in April. I must have been drunk when I agreed to take this on. And heaven knows when I am meant to fit my study in.
Oh, and if all that wasn't bad enough, I've had a letter from the local gas company to advise me that my neighbours gas main is under their conservatory, a situation which has to be rectified and which will mean "excavation" to my property! I'm sorry?! That conservatory was built at the same time as the houese, about 12 years ago. How has it has all come to light now? I hope the neighbour is suing the previous owner, and the builder, and the building inspectors. I hope so because I am probably going to sue her.
And just to add insult to injury, I've had a birthday. I don't know how much longer I can go on lying about my real age. Hopefully for at least the next 10 years.
My posts here are just a litany of woes and moans.
I'll shut up now. And go and find that bridge.
XX
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| Fear |
[16 Oct 2006|09:21pm] |
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 anxious |
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I used to be fearless.
Once upon a time there was wind beneath my wings. Once upon a time I would boldly go where no man has gone before. Well, ok, that last statement is going a tad far. And is ungrammatical. But I would always push my boundaries and I didn't fear much at all. And now I do.
Now I live my life in the range "mildly anxious" to "downright scared". Of everything. From this being the season of whacking big spiders in the house to Korea having the bomb. From knocking cyclists off their bikes in the rush hour (although I could drag up an argument for saying they deserve it) to failing my exams next year. From retiring and finding that I don't have enough to live on to dropping dead from a nicotine-induced heart attack.
But most of all, I am scared of the person I've become. At one time I knew I was fun and witty and vibrant and now I don't know where that person has gone. And I'm scared of disappointing people when they meet the real me.
And I'm scared of your comments.
XX
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| Home is the wanderer... |
[21 Sep 2006|08:36pm] |
Well I am back from my travels.
We (more about "we" later) did about 700+ miles. Set off from Manchester airport and east headed across the Yorkshire Wolds to Bridlington (don't go), up to Scarborough (we are a seaside town but we try to ignore the fact), through the North York Moors National Park, Whitby, through Newcastle without stopping, up to Northumberland and Amble (gorgeous!) and then Bamburgh Castle, Seahouses and then Holy Island and Lindisfarne. After a wander around there we shot off across the Borders, around Edinburgh and through Glasgow with a quick stop at Gretna Green. The up to Loch Lomond overnight,which I did enjoy. Next morning we headed south down to the lake District, Coniston, Windermere - various stops there, then down through the Yorkshire Dales and eventually back to Manchester airport.
It took us five full days stopping off in various places to see the sights and drink coffee in transport cafe's. Overnight's were spent in travel lodges and bed and breakfasts ranging from exceptional to "oh my god keep the lights off and you won't see how awful it is".
I very much enjoyed the trip but, on reflection I don't think I would do it again. Why not?
* My friend (who is just that) is a Yorkshireman. I really don't mind paying for virtually everything but an occasional offer to dig your hand in your pocket wouldn't come amiss.
* I hated living out of a suitcase. Dirty washing. Enough said.
* I like my creature comforts. I admit that my head is easily turned by a square washbasin and some bamboo growing in the bathroom. I like all that. I like room service. I like a gown and slippers being provided. I am not keen on cots in the room, aertex blankets and everything not matching.
* I wanted to spend more time wandering around, going where the mood took me, rather than hurtling to the next destination.
Highlights?
* Doing the commentary on the Loch Lomond boat (the pilot wwas almost dumb) in English using a Fench guidebook.
* Getting caught up in Prince Philip's motorcade just outside Glasgow and waving to HRH. He didn't wave back. Mind you, he had just come back from RAF Kinloss.
* Having the wild birds eat out of my hand on Holy Island.
* Map reading and never once getting lost.
I've still got 10 days holiday to take this year. Any suggestions?
XX
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| Knowing your left from your right |
[04 Sep 2006|07:03pm] |
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Today we had a luncheon for three bigwigs from Chicago HQ.
Lunch was poached salmon, new potatoes and salad. I was transfixed by how our guests used their cutlery. One woman used her fork in her right hand, like a spoon, and never once used her knife; the young chap used his fork in his right hand and his knife in his left, using his knife like some sort of dagger and the second woman used the correct implements in the correct hands but held her knife like a pen.
So, my question is - is this usual in the US or did we just strike the three that have no social graces? Ok, that was a tad harsh but the question stands - is this usual in the US? And those of you in/with experience of other countries? What have you noticed about how different nationalities use their eatin' irons? I'd be interested to hear.
The theme carried on this afternoon when I went into the Post Office to send some postcards and a parcel*. I had to fill in a customs declaration for the parcel and guess what? The pen (chained to the counter so that nobody could steal all £1.99 of it) was on the left. I had to slide the form under the chain in order that I could write. I always presumed that the majority of people were right-handed so why have all the pens (yes, I checked the other counters) on the left?
I've heard of the phrase "not knowing your arse from your elbow" but never "not knowing your right from your left"!
XX
* - postcards sent to those that asked for them!
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| Just cruisin' |
[02 Sep 2006|05:58pm] |
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 giggly |
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One of my periodic lunches with my old dear today.
Thankfully, we (I) managed to make it last longer than the usual 20 minutes. I never usually eat dessert but I feel compelled to order one when I'm with her, just so we don't have to leave before the restaurant has even registered that we've arrived. I had king prawns and avocado followed by strawberries and Mrs T had Dover sole followed by ice-cream. It was jolly nice too.
We chatted about the golden days of cruising. Mrs T and her late husband used to do the 3 month world cruise on the best liners every year. They always had a suite, dressed for dinner, had dinner with the captain, etc and thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Sadly, Mr T died on one of their cruises and was buried at sea. Very fitting though, I thought. I think I would quite like that.
Anyway, Mrs T, all 82 glorious years of her, told me the story of one evening onboard when she realised that she had run out of cigarettes. She seemed to recall that the bar they were in didn't stock her particular brand but she thought that she'd ask anyway.
"You don't do Guards, do you?" she asked
With a jaunty rise of his eyebrow, the bar steward lisped "Well, not when I'm at sea, dear, no"
She found out later that he was known onboard as "Bamber, the Queen of the High Seas".
I absolutely collapsed laughing.
I love Mrs T!
XX
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| I'm not the only celestial body |
[24 Aug 2006|06:00pm] |
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It's official. Pluto is no longer a planet.
The new definition of a planet is: "A celestial body that is in orbit around the sun, has sufficient mass for its self-gravity to overcome rigid body forces so that it assumes a ... nearly round shape, and has cleared the neighbourhood around its orbit."
Pluto is automatically disqualified because its oblong orbit overlaps with Neptune's.
So how are we going to remember the order? I was raised on:
"Many Villains Eat Much Jelly So Under Nourishment Prevails"
(from the sun) Mercury - Venus - Earth - Mars - Jupiter - Saturn - Uranus - Neptune - Pluto
We need a new mnemonic. A postcard from Guernsey for the best suggestions.
XX
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| As clear as mud |
[22 Aug 2006|08:36pm] |
|
I need to get my glasses adjusted.
Some months ago I finally relented and got the varifocals which are meant to ensure that I can see distance and read close print. The trick is, so they say, to move your head so that you look through the correct part of the lens. It gives one a haughty appearance which, given I have a naturally haughty appearance, isn't helping me in the Attractiveness Stakes. I find myself lifting the specs with one finger when I want to see up close and personal which is not what the optician had in mind, so a think a trip to get them adjusted is in order. Mind you, lifting them up is not as bad as twisting them sideways a la Eric Morecambe which is what I was doing with the last pair in my search for clarity.
Even with the adjustment I am not sure that I will gt the hang of them. Last week I read an article in which some celebrity was saying ".....I like the simple things in life such as egg and chips and the enema..." Confused, I read it again but it took me two attempts before I realised that not only had I missed a complete line out but I had also misread one of the words. It actually said "..I like the simple things in life such as egg and chips, playing with the kids, going to the supermarket and trips to the cinema."
Maybe I should leave them as they are. Maybe life is more interesting this way.
XX
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| Up, up and away |
[12 Aug 2006|10:05pm] |
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mood |
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 relaxed |
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My suitcase is packed and I've got my tickets, passport and purse all on show in my clear plastic wallet. Off to Chez Mother tomorrow for a week. I didn't feel 3 months was long enough earlier this year...
I am in need of some rest and recuperation. Although the 'op was a resounding success the convalescence is longer than one might expect; the consultant told me to expect a year before I feel back to 100% I am still in some discomfort if I lift anything heavy and I definitely need a lie down by 4pm every day. This, coupled with the fact that, as is my lot, I am working stupid hours again (average of 55 hours a week) is a recipe for total burn-out. So hence the trip to Mothers. A week of daytime tv, Scrabble, reading, china cups of tea, a lot of sleeping - and trying to persuade Mother that not everything written in the Daily Mail is true.
I didn't win the Lottery this evening. Then again, I didn't buy a ticket. You have to be in it to win it. Much like life, eh?
Later gators
XX
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| Melt Down |
[10 Aug 2006|05:46pm] |
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cheerful |
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Well, hello there. I said that in my best Mae West voice.
It's a while since I last posted. In recent times, I don't feel as if I have anything interesting to say. That's not to say that my past postings were interesting. Oh, you know what I mean!
So, what to say today?
First of all, please don't try and blow up 'planes that I may be on. Or anyone else may be on. It's very bad form. And it's also very bad form for airport authorities to make ladies now carry their personal hygiene items unwrapped and in a clear plastic bag. When was the last time anyone got blown up by a semtex tampon? Not that I require the aforementioned, now that *whispers* I've had it all taken away but it's the principle. Which brings me on to the next semi-related subject. Why aren't those items provided free for women? It's not as if we have a choice in the matter. You can bet your bottom dollar that if men had periods THEY would make sure they didn't have to pay for them. Mind you, if men had periods, three days sick leave a month would be mandatory.
And while I am venting my spleen, when are cyciists going to be required to carry a number plate? I have at least a dozen I am waiting to report. You know the ones. "Oh, the traffic light is on red. Who cares?!" and "Oh, let me just cut this car up as I swerve in front of it". And why is talking on a mobile 'phone whilst driving dangerous but setting alight a piece of paper and shoving it in your mouth whilst driving is not?
And whilst on that particular subject, why has the smoking shelter at the office had to have 50% of the walls removed to comply with local legislation that says a public place must be 50% open to the elements to save non-smokers from ingesting the collected smoke? How many non-smokers do you know who would go and stand in a smoking shelter?!
In other news - I really have the hots for Pierce Brosnan. He really is my ideal man. Anyone know him and could effect an intro for me?
I think I'm back.....
XX
PS: I use the word "whilst" too much
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