these prunes are made for dancin

i cant have milky tea at the moment as i ran out of milk. i drank it in a moment of maddness and now feel quite sorry for myself. I can sit in bed though cos i just made it and its really snug and i can read a good book as i have a few to my disposal namely the great gatsby and far from the madding crowd.

yesterday was rather glorious though it wasnt productive in terms of my degree. But...i feel suitably regretful to work my ass of for the rest of the week.

my beyootiful new pea green pointy shoes are chipped on the end. i am almost driven to tears. Or rather, im so upset i could cry and this is intensified by the fact that i dont actually feel compelled to cry at all.

and ive burnt my middle finger on the grill whilst attempting to move the shelf with my bare not-heat proof hands lower, so I could put a nice layer of film ontop of my porridge of goodness. why must i suffer to make myself happy?

whilst i was travelling i watched a film about winston churchill and actually found him quite endearing. perhaps ive been seeking the wrong kind of bloke all this time adn should chase up a passionate right winger old man who smokes cigars.

one must always try new things.