Unfortunately, I do not have an airline ticket to romantic places, wild strawberries, silk stockings, dance invitations, daffodils, or indeed any of the other things mentioned in the song.
Also, to clarify, the rum was not for me to get drunk on to numb the pain caused by the inexpert, unvaried music wafting gently down from the floor above, it was for my housemate to soak exotic fruits in to create a lovely digestif. (In chorus, "We believe you....")
Since I finished Desperate Housewives on Sunday my life has seemed rather empty. I tried to fill the void with reading, writing, lesson planning, martini, facebook, but none of it worked. However, for some reason I seem to have come over all positive and determined in the last couple of days. Firstly, I deleted Spider Solitaire from my computer. I've done this before, but this time I didn't reinstall it again 2 hours later. I did all the washing up from the dinner party last night (great fun, but they started talking engineering at the end so I retired to my literary theory book) and even went for a run. It has been a long time since I took any exercie, and I probably spent more time recovering afterwards than actually doing the whole cardiovascular thang, but I still feel virtuous. I also finally figured out how to get a photo on my profile on this thing, and spent a long time faffing about with colours and stuff. I demand you all click on the link to BBC news because I ventured into html for the first time in my life to create it, AND it worked.
I am withing finishing distance of two of the worthy books I have here and will soon actually have to do the Paper VIII reading lists in a more thorough way than, 'Ooh, a train, let's read another half a chapter of Le rouge et le noir on it!' Send linguistics books. Fast.
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