Having been held at [finger]gunpoint by a a congirl formerly known as Rimi, it seems I must, at peril of life, feed you titbits of my obscenely uninteresting existence.
I am reading Tom Brown's Schooldays and so far all that has interested me of the book, of which I am now on the 6th chapter, having begun reading from chapter 5, is the fact that all these chummy Brits ever did at school was play football, drink beer, sing and have someone clean their shoes for them. I do not wish to read any further, and understandably so. Nobody offered me any beer at school.
I am rehearsing for a play. One of my co-actors takes the role seriously enough to be in character all the time. We play Dirt.
I have also been repeating the phrase "pantomime of shadow-puppetry" over and over and over in my head for the past 72 hours. Which might explain the 13th hour of my splitting headache.
It is my ambition to continue being effortlessly unfathomable to the populace. Humour me.
Thanking you, yours sincerely.