I think I have to join a book club. My friend belongs to one and quite how they find the time to read escapes me but I think I am missing the point here. As long as you can still sign the children’s absence slips from school the next day without blacking out then the copious amount of alcohol consumed the night before over paperbacks has all been worthwhile. Perhaps I should join the library and save my liver.
Whilst on the subject of the written word a friend questioned my target of 6 weeks to write a bodice ripper. The answer is obvious, give the bodices Velcro tabs, that way they romp through the pages quicker. I wonder whether a menopausal woman can live out her fantasies in the covers of a book? Time will tell. So to this end, this 22 year old, stunning and lithe of body diarist with the come to bed eyes and heaving cleavage is signing off and slipping back into preserved and delusional menopausal alter ego. It’s my book - I can write as I like, delusional or not!
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