He is colourblind. It used to be fairly funny. “Shall we buy him this top? He’ll think it’s red, not green”. I’ve often wondered what it would be like to be colourblind. How would you know? If you’re exceedingly colourblind then you’d see the whole world in all the wrong hues. Surely?
I would have said someone specific but the truth is that I don’t think I know anyone who is shallow. Well, I’m sure that most of us have moments of shallowness, but I know nobody who is always shallow. So, I said swimming pools instead. They have a shallow end. I used to love swimming. I must start going again.
In the Dark Ages, before The Blokey but after The Bully-Boy, I used to spend a lot of my time chatting online. I was a Yahoo! user. I still have the messenger on my PC and very occasionally I will stumble into a chatroom but I find them dull these days. And I’m sure that one day when I have children and no job then I’ll probably start using chat again. But that is by-the-by and deserves a post all of its own. There was one chap that chatted to for an exceedingly brief period [about a week] who wrote me an erotic story. He asked me the sort of things that I liked sexually and incorporated them into the story. It was very lovely. He e-mailed it to me and I suspect that I still have it somewhere. I shall have to dig it out …
I spend so much time daydreaming that I’m never sure what is real and what is purely something that I dreamt up. Mumsy says that half the memories I have of being little are simply things that I’ve made up. I’m not so sure …
In my second year at uni I lived with four friends in a terraced house that was incredibly nasty. The decor was grubby and old [I expect that now it would be considered retro and rather dandy] and the house needed a lot of work doing to it. And the landlord was charging us a fortune for the pleasure of living there. We complained to the Environmental Health about the state of the house [there was no central heating in the house and I was waking up every morning to discover that the top of my bedclothes were drenched in nasty damp … and no it wasn’t sweat] and they came round and the next thing you know we’re being kicked out. It was all fun.
I always remain calm and composed in the classroom *cough*
I prefer being cold and chilly to hot and sweaty [well, depending on the scenario *girly blush*] because it’s easier to warm up than cool down. The sun gives me headaches. I’d never cope living in a warmer climate than that which we have here.
Far too obvious.
When I was younger I was intrigued by documentaries that told me how kids in schools in America have to have earthquake drills. It sounded a lot more fun that fire drills. Earthquakes scare me. We had one here a couple of years ago. Yep, it was so teeny most people just thought someone next door had dropped a book.
I detest James Bond with a vengeance. I just wanted to make you aware of that – *grin*.
I’m becoming a little housewife. This morning I got up and did the ironing [I still loathe ironing], put another load of washing on, semi-cleaned the bathroom, and made breakfast in bed. Well, not literally in bed because the kettle would make it a tad steamy under the duvet … Becoming a little housewife doesn’t really bother me. When I was a tiddler I wanted nothing more than to get married and have babies. When I do have kids I want to be a stay at home mum. Radical feminism scares me. And last night I was watching something about the sixties on the telly and some woman said that the decade didn’t make women equal it simply made them more available. And in a way I decided [in my wine-addled brain state] that she was probably right. I’m very old fashioned in some of my views. But I’m also very modern. I skip between the two. I have no fixed ideas.
And sometimes it gets to the point where even I don’t know what I’m talking about.
please God bless the blokey and make him wash up xxx Elsabeth