...my boyfriend sits, slack-jawed and fuzzy brained in front of this for the next 18 million years.

Adopt an African baby? Gradually change my appearance over the 18 million years so that by the end, he will have a completely unrecognisable girlfriend? Then see if he's noticed? Randomly flash cars from our bedroom window and see how many collisions I can cause? Scale Kilimanjaro? Learn a new language and pretend I've never spoken anything else? Get to grips with the ironing? Read some important books and have wordy discussions about them over brie and port? Even write an important book? Or a trashy one? Re-tile the bathroom? Become a priest? Wrestle a bear? See how far I can get his toothbrush up my nose? Bake?

I have no news to bring you from my eventful life. I got stared out by seagulls on the way to work this morning, am thinking of lodging a restraining order.

I am now on day 6 of my bastard 8 days in a row at work. This has included two sleepovers, and a third tomorrow. If my patience has completely run out by then, may well find myself campaigning for the 'send 'em all back where they came from' party, other wise known as The Daily Express, next week. Not really. I love my little kiddywinks. I wish they'd just stop asking me for stuff when i'm in the middle of blogging.