Dear Lucy,
You beautiful, beautiful baby. You make me broody but don't worry, have beaten myself about the head with a soggy cucumber and normal order is restored.
Be good for your mummy,
ShowOfHands, one of many, many virtual fairy gothmothers that exist only to devise new and evil ways of torturing your potential mates in 15 years time.
Dear TMAM,
I am also of the hormonally challenged persuasion today. There is much and a healthy dose of reverberating around the SOH house.
Wear the shoes, it helps,
Showy.
Dear Christmas,
Consider yourself cancelled.
Humbugs,
Show.
Dear Thread at large,
Oh how I love you my reason for living, the exquisite beating of my heart in the grey twilight hours continues only because out there in the cloaked night I know you nestle waiting for me. How my body yearns to be mantled within your gentle caress blah blah. Did you know my friend once met a guy who said crap like this to her in the heat of the moment. Yards of crap, spewing forth from his Hallmarked lips. Even better, he ended on a note of pure filth every time so 'my darling, the light of the morning reflected on your silken hair is like the light in my heart that sparks whenever you are near. Sit on my face.' You know, that sort of thing.
Have not been round much, apologies. You can blame Thor and the rigours of the epistolary form.
Anyway, have a hot date with a sieve, some gravel and a lot of mud. I. Kid. You. Not.
Kind regards,
Show.
xxx
PS Sit on my face.