C is in Paris this evening.
Much though I love the odd evening to myself - a curry, a couple of beers, a rant about some stupid band, watching Johnny Marr perform "Panic" with the Cribs and Billy Bragg perform "New England" (with Kate Nash, of all people) on the telly, some cuddles from my (other) poesia.... well, I miss her.
So there it is.
It's not big and it's not especially clever, but there it is.
Reading to escape
1 week ago