Thursday 27 January 2011

Whinge alert

Sorry peeps, major attack of the blahs today. But hell, January in Britain - can you imagine?

I'm sick of looking at a sky the colour of dirty socks, sick of spending 10 minutes in the ladies each morning drying my hair with paper towels (you can imagine how effective that is), sick of wearing gumboots to work.

Sick of having to swaddle myself in scarves, gloves, coats and thick tights every time I leave the sodding building. Sick of always feeling cold and engaging in window wars with the blokes at work who think letting in the Arctic breeze is acceptable.

Sick of getting emails from mates at home, telling me about about the joys of sitting in the sun, quaffing rose while wearing a slip of a dress and avoiding sunburn.

Sick of not being able to run at lunchtime because, guess what, it's peeing down yet again.

Currently wishing I could find a tardis and be transported somewhere far, far warmer.

God/Allah/Shiva/Buddah, are you listening???

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