I am barred from the pub. Well, that is I barred myself. After a frightful run in with Glen the Good, I am not entering the portals to be despised, slagged off or both. They can do that without me. I don't really like pubs that much anyway. I feel uncomfortable amongst people I don't know and who, on the whole, seem a bit snooty towards me. They are suspicious and jealous and seem to think speaking the queen's English is a nasty infection that might be catching. I think it is time to start behaving appropriately and stop upsetting people. I suppose I should be doing charitable works or something. Just fancying David Cameron and being a bit loud aren't really great qualities for endearing yourself to man in the pub or anyone else.
Now I am concentrating on being nicer and getting thinner. Mr Smith is away in France jouer au golf. Je suis stuck at home scared to go out of my front door. But I have done all the washing and ironing (which took me forever) and my darling boy has put Netflix on my iPad - though it isn't actually working. I learnt how to fold fitted sheets on YouTube and found the lump on the back of my head is probably just a wart, not a cancerous melanoma.
Oh how I love our little dog.
Now I am concentrating on being nicer and getting thinner. Mr Smith is away in France jouer au golf. Je suis stuck at home scared to go out of my front door. But I have done all the washing and ironing (which took me forever) and my darling boy has put Netflix on my iPad - though it isn't actually working. I learnt how to fold fitted sheets on YouTube and found the lump on the back of my head is probably just a wart, not a cancerous melanoma.
Oh how I love our little dog.
