Woopee! It's time for some

Bush! Yeah! Bush! Yeah! Bush! Yah! Bush! Yesh! Blush! Yesh! Blush! Yesh! Bluish! Yesysh! Bulgish! Yesh! Bullshit! Yeah! Bullshit! Yes! Bull-fucking-shit! Fuck!

So, this morning I realised how annoyed I was with the British system of recording dates. Why put the day first? It just confuses me. This morning I thought something was wrong and then I realised it wasn't April eleventh it was November fourth. I was wearing shorts. It wasn't right. Luckily I hadn't gone outside as I was still halfway through my punishing new Yoga routine. My routine of punishing Yoga. It's called 'Punish Yoga'. It's like power Yoga, but your legs never come together. They spend the entire thirty minutes either above your head or very near your ears. I feel so Mmmmmm though. Wonderful.

Oh, last week I saw Rufus Wainwright. Hang on I'll locate a gorgeous picture of him.

Woof Woof!
I cannot tell you how absolutely gorgeous this man is. His sister too. His sister. So great. It was great. I came out totally soaking wet and it was a SEATED concert. Yes! Use your imaginations.

Actually, I say imaginations, I really probably mean 'imagination' because I don't think the plural is strictly needed here. This is because I'm not sure anyone actually reads this, except, of courst for Clint Susans whose identity was revealed to me last weekend in London town. However, that, as they say, is a different story. Except as to say sorry Clint. Sorry I let you down, and myself too.

love you
M xx