I've spent a fair portion of the past day and a half in an antibiotic fuelled haze of exhaustion, sleeping lots. And dreaming lots. You'd think with all those dreams, I might get some nice kinky ones, right? Wrong. Being in a boat in an earthquake in Venice? Check. Getting lost in the middle of a strange city with my least favourite work colleagues? Check. Watching some random army invade the local stately home? Check. The nearest my dreams came to kinky was one involving suspender belts. Unfortunately, it involved Gladys Pugh, from Hi-De-Hi, selling them on television. I realise that that reference will probably only mean something to anyone who was living in the UK in the 1980s, but think "scary desperate Welsh woman with too much make up" (http://www.bbc.co.uk/cult/ilove/years/1981/tv3.shtml). The point being, not in the slightest bit kinky or sexy. Or at least not for me. If it works for you, hey, who am I to judge!?
So it's back to sleep for me. And here's hoping I get luckier with the dreams this time.
7 hours ago