Hello...Tim! Hello!

I went caving last night in Wookie Hole caves. It was terrifying. First of all I'm very calaustraphobic and second of all I don't have very good grip on my fingers. It's because my mom ate dairy when she was pregnant, apparently it means the baby's fingerprints are very fine, very shallow in fact. So, besically I can't grip onto things very well. At parties this means I often drop my glass straight onto the floor and on board trains I often slip when I'm going to the buffet cart and fall on people to either side of me. But most of all it means caving is a definite no no. I only went because this hot guy I met two weeks ago (Jim) is, like, some kind of outdoor pursuits fanatic and he thought it'd be fun to show me what he most likes to do on a wednesday night. I thought we'd be off for a dance at the Polo Lounge, but oh no! We're on a small propellor plane down to Wales to squash ourselves into a tiny hold in the ground. I felt like a maggot eating into an apple. Not very nice.
Anyway, needless to say I totally lost it in the part called the 'letterbox', which is so named because it's an opening about the size of a letterbox. I think it should be renamed 'letterbox of TERROR!'. I mean if you saw someone trying to climb into an actual letterbox with a headlamp, crashhelmet and totally shapeless boiler suit (in a kind of urine yellow) you wouldn't think "My! What bravery." You'd think they were fucking mental. So I don't see why doing it underground makes it 'legit'.
So, I panicked and squirmed and nearly fell into this gaping wide cravasse at the side of this tiny rock I was slipping my way over and then I actually shat myself. Just a little bit of poo that came out, but it was enough I can tell you. I said to Jim that if he didn't take me out right now I would bite down really hard on his ankle and not let go.
When we surfaced I had to spen thirty five minutes in the lotus position before I could even speak. I got straight back in the plane and told the pilot to fly me back home and forget about Jim. He protested so I karate chopped him and took off myself. IT was wild. My hair blowing in the cool (almost below zero) night air as I navigated by the stars. To land the plane I had to astrally project myself to the airport control room and ask them to connect with me psychically and help me down.
They did!
So now I'm home and it's kind of cool. When you've diced with death you realise how inviting a night in can be. James Bond probably hankered after these kind of nights. Just me, a DVD of something like 'Bridget Jones' Diary' and a lovely bottle of organic Cab Sauv.
SEe ya

love lvoe

Musty J xx