Saturday, 28 November 2009

I’m not a masochist!

It’s so long ago. Or is it? Get depressed. Don’t ask. Get flack full in the face if you do. I’m sitting here listening to Christmas songs. The jingle bells are jingling and the choir (probably the local orphanage for that added effect) is in full voice doing a wonderful job. Don’t snicker. Eleven months of the year have already vanished. I’m only just getting used to the year 2009 by the time I’m comfortable with it we’ll be halfway through 2010. What’s so long ago or not? I'll tell you. A time when my forties still seemed a reasonable way off and now here I am looking forward (a somewhat exaggeration) to the next decade. Blurgh! And don’t give me all that pony about “30 is the new 40” therefore 50 must be the new 40! Not working out how I’d imagined. Does anything ever? Got the blues. Perhaps I should sing them? It might help... yes! Excellent idea. Why don’t I remind myself that’s one other thing I cannot do with any degree of talent or finesse. Bad idea. Can’t stand the looks of horror emanating in my direction from both cats every time I do vocalise. Watching them make a valiant attempt at covering their ears with their paws but don’t ever quite manage it. That’s it. Enough of the aural mince pies and jolly old Crimble. Blues it is. Listening only. I’m not a masochist. I need cheering up. I need a cuddle. I need to clutch something close to my aching bosom...something dear to me... where’d I leave that darling Prada handbag of mine?

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