This journal has been placed in memorial status. New entries cannot be posted to it.
Bank thing done. Twinkie with barely-shaveable blond fluff tried to sell me a new flavour of bank account (would have cost me £5/mo instead of free like I already have, in return for AA Roadside (I have no car) and mobile phone insurance (I have no moby), so no deal) and house/contents insurance. This looks better than what we have. Alas, I could think little other than "Does your mamma know you're out, little boy?" I grow old, I grow old, I still shan't wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. However, I do dare to eat a peach (tries not to think any more about Twb-sbf, peachfuzz la la la).
Speaking of cute boys, brief encounter in the city centre with an unmuntered _gh0st_. Christmas hugs, kisses and t00bitude.
Library thing done. Also shopping thing and picking up parcels too vast to be squooged through letterbox thing. Lovely anonymous parcel containing choccy, fudge, Christmas pud, and a bottle of splendid gin wrapped up in money. If any of you are responsible for that, know you're adored (you were almost certainly adored already, but you are that much more adored, so there).
Downsides: very few. Back has decided to crap out on me after all that walking, so it's lie down with tea, morphine and Nanny Ogg's Cookbook, courtesy of Coventry Library.
*wanders away merrily singing "Good tidings of crumpets and jam"*
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