BF phoned and was his usual "missing you dreadfully" self. He'll be back tomorrow night and has told me he is desperate for 'a lovely cuddle'. I rather suspect that means he is desperate for an astonishing amount of pervy sex. I so hope I feel better tomorrow or I shall just have to lie there like...ummm....oh, I dont know...like something that just LIES THERE and let him do his worst.
I have been sleeping in one of his Guinness T-shirts - not a clean one, you understand, but one I have shamelessly dug out of the laundry basket for the full sweaty, smoky, aftershavey niff of him.
Jooj's party invites are all done; rolls of parchment (aged to perfection with the aid of a squeeze of tea bag or two)tied with red ribbon and typed in Old English script for the full Harry Potter wizardy effect. Treacle has already been harping on about HER birthday (not for six weeks yet) and I suspect the glitter glue is going to take a severe hammering for the fairy-based extravaganza she is planning. If, just ONCE, Shagnasty would say, "Oh, you've done the girls parties AGAIN - You must've spent a fortune, here's twenty quid" I would drop down dead in a faint. Actually I would probably raise one eyebrow and sneer "I dont need your money" before flicking his hand away in a desultory fashion (and then kicking myself jolly hard afterwards).
Got my hair cut AT LAST this afternoon - wasnt allowed to cut it while I was doing the play as had to fashion it into some semblance of a 20's 'do' for the duration - my hairdresser kindly pointed out that I had missed a bit when I did my roots 10 days or so ago and that I had a big brown blodge on the back of my head (went unnoticed under the slightly longer hair). Had to wear BF's skiing hat (greeny, with giant dangly bobbles) to the fireworks thingy to cover it up as no time for bleach application beforehand. Will slap some on tomorrow somewhen - especially as I have a management meeting on Monday and dont really want to attend looking like someone has smacked me in the back of the head with an After Eight.
Incidentally, talking vaguely of work, I went for a litte nap this afternoon and XXX woke me up TWICE phoning to ask me first for the fax number for the office and then ten minutes later to ask for the bloody postcode. (Trying to rent a flat and needing to send for references)Talk about above and beyond the call of duty. I suppose that is my payback for making her cry during the duty of care meeting.
Nightie night my new (and old) chums - expect a return to my usual form - whatever that is - tomorrow with the triumphant return to the fold of the prodigal BF. Anyone know where I can get a ticker tape machine?
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