Just me then. I'm the only mean spirited trollop in the internet house tonight.
Anyway. At the moment I frequently find myself thinking (as I sit, fingers poised above the keyboard, staring soulfully into the middle distance for inspiration in the manner of a lady novelist photographed for a women's magazine) "there is loads going on at the moment but I can't write about it". And being a mean spirited trollop and tarring you with my mean spirited trollop brush (sorry); I wanted to reassure you: none of it is GOOD. It is a heap of separation related ratshit and not fit for interweb consumption.
Yes. I said 'separation' and not some coy euphemism, for once. Let's call a heap of ratshit a heap of ratshit. It will all be fine and we are both behaving impeccably, but it's still shit.
In the meantime, I am finding that the following help:
1. Mono-food meals, particularly where the single food is either crisps or chocolate. Or indeed alcohol, see 2 below.
2. Drinking heavily once a week on average (it takes me a week to recover, I have the impulse control of a 17 year old boy in the body of a 92 year old woman)
3. Bribing the weepette to let me lay my head on its silky neck hair.
4. Insulting the days of the week in French with my brain twin M. If you feel you would like to try this self-help remedy, let me set it out for you here:
Lundi, tu suces
Mardi, espèce d'enculé
Jeudi, gros bâtard
Vendredi, petit con
M stops here, because she enjoys the weekend. I continue:
Samedi, fils de pute
Dimanche , tu pues du cul.
This might be a lovely way to teach your children the days of the week in French, non?
On that thoroughly edifying note, I shall leave you tonight. But at least you know that if I am being coy it is only because I am wading through ratshit, not fighting off media types with swathes of banknotes with a big stick. Sadly.