So we're comfortably sitting in January, and look at me with the whole resolution thing! I'm not a complete failure; I can still achieve things beyond basic dental hygiene, and tying my shoe laces. And thank God I didn't attempt more than one, because I'm already going steady with Terry's chocolate orange and some of his friends. Oh, and the gym? I walk past it all the time. It seems to be doing just fine without me.
I can be fat and write. It's the same as having a face for radio.
I've got some bad news about our good friend Ann Potts - she's only gone and had an accident at work! Maybe she had the wrong ladder? Luckily, she's a member of GBM Compensation. Unluckily, all the forms have come to me. They've enclosed a rather detailed letter about some poor chap called Daniel who fell through a skylight. I can only assume this same fate has befallen my beloved Ann. It's okay though, because Daniel's employer was imprisoned. That didn't seem fair to me, until I read that Daniel was dead. I guess that balances out. Ann, be you dead or crippled, I shall hold on to these forms for you, or your carer, worry not.
In other news, Ginger Beard decided enough was enough with all my shoes, and hid the majority of them in a bin bag. Imagine my dismay on Monday morning facing the rain and ice, with a choice of my high heels or my gripless boots. This was not a problem the cag in a bag could fix. I chose the boots. I fell over in Morrison's car park. The staff saw, and not one of them came to help, despite my numerous purchases, and general store loyalty. Ann would understand, probably feeling abandoned by her loved ones, no christmas cards this year, no road to compensation, just her crooked legs and her imprisoned boss. Hard times for us all.
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