It’s my only girly vice, (I don’t buy Heat or even Marie Claire and I don’t watch Desperate Housewives or Glee or any soaps) so ‘low it (as they say in jail). In homage therefore; here’s what’s been happening and what I’ve ‘got to wondering’ this week.
……Victoria Sponge was contemplating a Christening and wondering just how many phone calls a vicar has to return? While she waited for the vicar to call, she found herself experimenting with Cbeebies only to be thoroughly disgusted by the innuendo of ‘In the Night Garden’. She found 'Pinky Ponk Juice' particularly offensive.
……Vivienne Westwood was hanging out in the Arts Café before her life drawing class in the hope of meeting her Napoleon. She also hung out at the Polling Station to see if love might turn up there……..Nothing.
I got to wondering….where do you meet the love of your life? Where do single women in their thirties go to meet men?
Meanwhile across town…….
…… Troutie was in the sonographer’s room with Bushman and son in tow. “We’d like to know the sex of the baby” she said. “I think it’s a girl and he thinks it’s a boy so which of us is right?”. The sonographer, imbued with the power of Simon Cowell on the X-Factor, allowed a moment’s grave and anticipatory silence before looking at Bushman and saying “You are.” as she turned to face Troutie.
So there you are…..it’s a girl.
P.S I’ve also been pondering the merits of Danish men (thanks to ‘Affluenza’ by Oliver James), how to wash a penis, how to fix a fucked-up piece of tapestry, what the policies of the Monster Raving Looney Party actually are, why I always have the hots for Laurence Fox when I’m pregnant and why girls are genetically attracted to pink (so I’m told)……but I’m saving all this for another time you lucky things.