Monday, December 27, 2004

‘If Winter comes, can spring be far behind?’ Shelley.

Icy outside, the sales have commenced. I’ve ordered my underwear online at M&S and have avoided the crush. Lush bath bombs that I gratefully received are de lovely, the bathroom still stinks and my skin still feels really soft after three days and two showers.

It’s the panto tonight. Oh yes it is. Hopefully due to the weather my co-worker will not be (as usual) late into work due to hunting foxes all over the Wolds. I don’t think she’s ever seen a fox let alone killed one; it’s all about posing on the priciest piece of equine you can afford, apparently. One of her horses has been chosen as a whipping in horse, whatever that is! If the weathers too bad they all just meet up, pose and then load the horses back up on a posing horsebox and off they go in their Range Rovers. What a wonderful piece of British Tapestry that will soon disappear.

South Asia, awful nightmare of a time, after reading Bill Bryson’s book about world events it seems spookily relevant. All we need now is a massive volcanic eruption and that’s it, done and dusted. The BBC news stopped using the word ‘Tsunami’ late last night and replaced it with ‘tidal wave’.

The gym is beckoning; I’ll be attending tomorrow, Wednesday and Thursday. I shall be forty minutes cardioing and 20 minutes weights and 20 minutes steaming and hydrotherapying. Twelve stone by Easter.

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