Reluctant Rambles.

I knew a man called Willy
Who was always turning red
He thought his name was silly
So I called him Jane instead

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The picture on my wall calendar this month shows an elderly couple walking down the street. I could never contemplate the elderly couple thing; life for me was always about moving on to new experiences. The problem was that most of the women I lived with had elderly couple aspirations, so they were a bit miffed when the parting of the ways came. I don’t blame them, of course; I was the odd one, not them. The exception to the rule was Mel. She’s the sort who always needs to be moving on, too, so we moved on separately and remained close.
 

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I haven’t been blogging today, have I? That’s because I’ve been busy with other things, and because things that give rise to stress kept hanging around and saying ‘hello,’ and because I’ve had a toothache off and on, and because I’ve been in a bad mood. Still am.

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My washing machine just finished, and it didn’t go jingle-jingle like it’s supposed to. Just the latest in a long line. You should have seen the strange caper Hotmail got up to when I sent an e-mail to Zoe earlier.

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I want all my American chums to come and visit me. I want to take them to the pub so they can tell me what they think of Marston’s Pedigree Ale. That’s my kind of aspiration. My other aspiration is to get the Lady Bella to acknowledge how beautiful she is. I keep trying.

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I just finished my beer. It was nice. I’ll have to make do with scotch now.