I have a real phobia of eyeballs. They're ICKY. Getting my eyes tested is a big trauma, and don't even get me started on contact lenses. They're the devil's own work.
So going to see King Lear the other night, with its big, graphic "duke getting his eyes carved out" scene (which I'd forgotten about) possibly wasn't the best idea...oops. Fantastic show though, absolutely blinding. (Did you see what I did there?).
And speaking of great tragedies... It's Valentine's Day tomorrow. Every year, whilst pretending not to give a shit, I remain hopeful that there'll be a card waiting on the mat for me, and every year... de nada. Perhaps *this* will be the year that someone sends me a card, a bunch of flowers, anything.... but to be honest I don't think it will be. Most of the men I know see it as a sign of affection when they don't stick your head under the duvet after they've farted.
This year I've been invited to a Singles party in East London. Normally I would shudder at the thought of a) Going to a Singles Party in the first place and b) venturing out of the safety of SW15. But this is no ordinary party, it's being held by Gay Best Friend and his hubby, so not only will it be fabulous, I do actually hold out some hope of there being some halfway decent men there. Hurrah and huzzah and oh god I hope I don't get stuck talking to the weird bloke in the kitchen.
So going to see King Lear the other night, with its big, graphic "duke getting his eyes carved out" scene (which I'd forgotten about) possibly wasn't the best idea...oops. Fantastic show though, absolutely blinding. (Did you see what I did there?).
And speaking of great tragedies... It's Valentine's Day tomorrow. Every year, whilst pretending not to give a shit, I remain hopeful that there'll be a card waiting on the mat for me, and every year... de nada. Perhaps *this* will be the year that someone sends me a card, a bunch of flowers, anything.... but to be honest I don't think it will be. Most of the men I know see it as a sign of affection when they don't stick your head under the duvet after they've farted.
This year I've been invited to a Singles party in East London. Normally I would shudder at the thought of a) Going to a Singles Party in the first place and b) venturing out of the safety of SW15. But this is no ordinary party, it's being held by Gay Best Friend and his hubby, so not only will it be fabulous, I do actually hold out some hope of there being some halfway decent men there. Hurrah and huzzah and oh god I hope I don't get stuck talking to the weird bloke in the kitchen.
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