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April 27th, 2004

To the tune of "I don't like Mondays"...

please sing "I do like Tuesdays. I want to b-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i--i-i-g the whole day up!"

Why do I like Tuesdays? Well the fact that I finish work at 11.15 puts a different complexion on the day and makes the alarm clock much less like the chimes of doom. But I didn't even need an alarm clock this morning because I woke up feeling far too lively at 5.30 and went and made myself some spicy fish soup for breakfast (stop pulling that face - cereal is for wimps).

I was eating my delicious soup and listening to Farming Today when I saw a squirrel scampering along the railing of my balcony, closely followed by another squirrel, the latter sporting a clearly visible squirrel stiffy. I live on the ninth floor and my building is several yards away from the nearest tree, so the little blighters must have leaped from a tree in the garden of one of the adjacent terraces and then scarpered all the way up the side of the building. What a testament to the power of lust. Of course tiggertastic would probably run up the side of a building in pursuit of a shag, but I doubt he could do so with an erection. And he'd have to wear a hard hat. minusbat would probably run up the side of a building just to hold hands with someone, but then the Origin of Species doesn't really account for people like him. stickette would have to take the lift. She'd never walk it in those boots, bless her. I can't comment on kharin or wavydavy because they are Not Real. They are like tamagotchi friends - they only exist within the parameters of lj but they still need regular attention.

Anyway a few second later the amorous pair ran back the other way - in Benny Hill closing credits style. Priceless. I hope all of you will be blessed with concupiscent squirrels this spring.

On the way home I managed to pick up 11 new books, well five secondhand and six very, very discounted - a mere 19 quid for the lot, and only 99p for a new copy of the latest Mary Shelley biography. And I discovered a fabulous market stall at The Cut that sells high quality classical CDs. When I first saw it I thought it was surrounded by scruffyish, nerdyish middle-aged men, so I thought it was selling porn or trainspotting stuff - seven new CDs for 15 quid, including the Beethoven I'm listening to now, all very good versions.

And when I got home - a storm. I enjoy a good storm almost as much as I enjoy shagging a man 16 years my junior. More on this later... The squirrels have the right idea.


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