Last night’s moon full and shining onto my bedstead. And no I don’t draw curtains which is why the Angel sleeps with blinkers courtesy of Virgin Atlantic. Theirs being the most stylish.
Have decided that there is only one weapon of defence in the war of keeping your sanity: Money. Am now on warpath since my purse has been leaking for the last three years and wild scenarios as to how to make up for lost time and nerves shattered in process occupying me to the extent that I have lost all concentration; thus needing to re-read the same page ten times and still haven’t got a clue.
I resent Big Brother and some camera on you at all times: It’s taken all the fun out of robbing banks.
So where better to throw myself than at the bosom of the blogging world. Apropos of nothing: Did you know that women’s skin is much thinner than men’s (biologically); yet I maintain, the male soul being more fragile and a lot more easily trampled upon, women are the ones with the thick hide. Weep if you must.
Anyway, my new love interest has me baking Italian biscuits. I knew this from as early as age 5: Falling in love is not good for you. It is so distracting you might walk into an oncoming truck.