The sun has gone to bed and so must I

Do you know I’ve seen that movie twenty-six times? It was my mother’s favourite. My father could never make it through the Nazi occupation at the end of the movie, as he was captured by the Germans during WWII, and the film brought back too many memories. So two thirds of the movie I know off by heart, but I’m distinctly hazy as to what happens after the Salzburg Festival.

Anyway, this inane waffle is simply by way of saying “So long, farewell.”

I’ll be off blog for a while, at the Grand London Shopping and Nuking Trip. I’m apparently visiting at least four hospitals on my travels, one of which is conveniently located next door to the UK’s best foobies clinic (that's "fake boobies" for those unaware of the lingo.) Maybe I can get me some gorgeous humongously large foobies in my lunchtime, inbetween zaps. You know, kill one bit, enhance a couple of others. I have to say, this is an immensely appealing thought. I really could use a new body, as since I embraced Vista a while back, my CPU keeps crashing randomly, I keep leaking memory and parts of me are in serious need of an expensive upgrade.

Richard has bought me a couple of Brooks Jensen books for my birthday, and I’ll be reading those over the next few weeks, along with various sleazy novels. So heaven only knows what sort of blog posts I’ll be churning out when I return.

In the meantime, enjoy yourselves, and I’m leaving you in Rich’s very capable hands.