On the eighth day of Christmas

Well I know I have holiday brain now as I had to think about how to spell ‘eighth’. Seriously. Obviously the salt water has entered my brain and is smoothing all the fissures over.

After another day at the beach (lovely) we are having a quiet night, and I am trying to watch Bridget Jones. However the TV is also suffering from crappy reception so I hear every third line only. Not really a problem as I could probably quote it from heart. It is very rude though what is happening to Colin Firth.



He is of course the reason I (& every same woman in the world) is watching. Alas, no Darcy tonight. It’s enough to drive a woman to chocolate!


One thought on “On the eighth day of Christmas

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