Whee hee, it's Sunday and this means it's alcohol day. Shall I start with a pink gin at breakfast, like Granny? The woman's 96 so it can't do you that much harm. Just think, if she never drank she could have lived to 180. Actually, I have to stay sober as the Apprentice and I are going shopping. I am not dressed yet as I have been enjoying a proper Sunday morning with the newspaper as one should. Tesco have issued a dress code for shopping which includes shoes, shirts and no pyjamas - we won't go there then.
Yesterday I delivered some eggs to Internet Dating Jane and we had a chat about her Tarzan. He might not be quite the King of the Swingers she was really hoping for. I mean, he's very nice but I realise that qualities such as dependable, reliable and sensible might not go hand in hand with spontaneous, fun and whacky. I don't think the squash racket was possibly one of the world's greatest romantic gestures but then I'm married to a man who gave me a tool box for my birthday last year. I married Mr Smith because he is as solid as a rock and I am so loony tunes crazy I do it for both of us ... whilst he watches the cricket.
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