No dinner, till he turns up

I haven’t eaten for 10 days since I last spoke to you, dear readers.
I’m so concerned that my love will catch me with a mouthful of food, or smelly breath that I can’t risk it.

Don’t worry, I’m completely fine, I had a lovely conversation with my mother the other day and it didn’t even worry me that much even though she has been dead for four years.

Come to think of it, my mind has been playing tricks on meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.sorry about that I must have just dropped off for a second while holding down the ‘e’ key.

That’s been happening quite a bit, I think it kicked in around day 7. I’m not sure how often these mini sleeps/black outs are, or how long they go on for. But the other day I did wake up lying awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs to discover my cat Roger hungriliy licking salvia from my face. And I swear there were distinct nibbles around my neckline when I shoooed him away.

Anyway, I feel I have written enough to satisfy my editor this week and justify my impressive salary - aren’t I glad I don’t get paid per word like some fools - so I am off. It’s 10.10am so I am already late to sit in the window and stare wistfully into the distance.

This week: I discovered David Cameron and I met that same black person, what a coincidence. My first one.