I've not been getting as much exercise as I should, partly through having fatigue and also because I don't need to go out and do shopping when I'm living with Aged Parents. Don't even get the chance to walk down the pub, as the pubs I want to go to are 200 miles away.

What with that and Mum's tendancy to cook with butter and lard (no low fat spread or cooking oil in this house), means that I'm a little chunkier around the middle than I want to be. Nothing very noticable in the right clothes, but I'm used to being naturally slimmish.*Note - I have no intention of trying to look like a stick insect, I just want to wear the trousers that fitted last year*

Don't really expect to start losing any weight until I get back to Sheffield but in the meantime, I need to find some way of getting the circulation going occasionally and burning off a few calories at least.

So, put on a CD and dance around the sun room like a mad thing ! I *love* dancing. Twist, turn and jig about, getting out of breath. So much more fun than a 20 min jog/aerobics or working on a step machine. OK, so it isn't a very scientific approach, but I know enough to ensure that most areas get a workout, and I warm up and slow down.

Dancing - bliss

Grab the Moulin Rouge sondtrack, and dance as you do the dishwashing.

We used to do that at least twice a week at uni - throwing plates at each other across the room and such-like.



PSD

==========

This is the work of an Italian narco-anarchic collective. Don't bother insulting them, they can't read English anyway.

Must have been expensive on plates, surely ?

I might get the Moulin Rouge soundtrack some time - it's a terrific film.
Went to see 'Blues Brothers' one time and naturally couldn't sit still in cinema seat. Got rather offended look from nearby patron, who seemed to think that enjoying the music wasn't quite right.

I got to go to the stage-show for my general studies lessons (our general studies lessons were rather more general than is normal) and within five minutes we'd started dancing in the aisles.

Throwing plates saved on washing up... (actually, we were pretty good at catching them. It was when one housemate launched a knife at me that it seemed a good idea to start dropping stuff).



PSD

==========

This is the work of an Italian narco-anarchic collective. Don't bother insulting them, they can't read English anyway.

ah, but the knife makers cunningly made one end pointy, so you'd know which end not to catch!

I've used that (or similar) when explaining how to juggle fire clubs - one end is hotter than the other, making it reasonably easy to work out which end to catch.

Knowing which end to catch is not the same as being able to do it consistantly.

My sixth form not only didn't bother with giving us general studies classes, it didn't even bother to make us sit the exams. We were told that most universities don't count them towards places, so there was no point.

Aged Parents house now being pelted with wind and rain. There's a collared dove sitting in the middle of the lawn, holding one wing out, apparently trying to use it as an umbrella.

Letter arrived here today from my niece. She's doing her dissertation and she graduates this summer ! My niece is 21 !
Should like to point out that her father, my brother Geoff, is 14 years older than me.

Is she single?

Sorry, sorry. Reflex action.



PSD

==========

This is the work of an Italian narco-anarchic collective. Don't bother insulting them, they can't read English anyway.

Apology accepted.

Her witty, talented 34D aunt is also single

Post Edited (04-01-03 17:48)

PSD

==========

This is the work of an Italian narco-anarchic collective. Don't bother insulting them, they can't read English anyway.

Ha! It's possible to edit yourself into silence! I can cover up my desperate scheming! Not that I was scheming...

Skiffle, I'm sorry to say I don't go for large boobs particularly, otherwise I'd be on the first train to Norfolk.



Post Edited (04-01-03 17:51)

PSD

==========

This is the work of an Italian narco-anarchic collective. Don't bother insulting them, they can't read English anyway.

skiffle never said her witty aunt lived in norfolk... :-)

PSD: my assets are nicely proportioned and well-shaped. My bras have *not* been cut down from barrage balloons.
And surely a handful of something that isn't ideal is better than nothing ?

Skiffle- all photo's gladly received ;-)

(sorry, sorry - really must stop doing that)



PSD

==========

This is the work of an Italian narco-anarchic collective. Don't bother insulting them, they can't read English anyway.

There's one on my website

www.gillian-f-taylor.co.uk

And does your niece look that good too?



PSD

==========

This is the work of an Italian narco-anarchic collective. Don't bother insulting them, they can't read English anyway.

My niece is blonde, 5' 8"and very curvy. Her Dad used to be in the Army. She's an only child and he adores her....

BTW - read the poem to the ex, and think it's rather more stoic than my own contribution to the genre:

"The name has changed, but not the plan -
Another day, another man.
Another body to who you turn,
Goodbye bitch, hope you burn."

In my defence I was pretty young when I wrote that (no scoffing at the back there), and she had slept with 6 blokes behind my back when she went on holiday.



PSD

==========

This is the work of an Italian narco-anarchic collective. Don't bother insulting them, they can't read English anyway.

I like it: short and bitter.
(like me sometimes)

re my poem;
Shed a lot of tears when he said he wanted to be single again, but that's all water under the bridge now (er, is that a mixed metaphor ?).
He's currently going out with a great woman, who's about 8" taller than he is. He doesn't mind the height difference though; his face nestles somewhere *very* comfortable when they cuddle.
Oh, and thanx for taking a look at my site. No one else ever looks at the poetry pages, so you had me confused for a minute.

I used to date a six footer when I was still 5'4". That was, er, interesting. I'm normally the one doing the chucking, so bing able to milk sympathy for a change rather takes the sting off it.

I'm not bitter, I'm definitely not stout. I may be cider ata teenage party - all over the place by midnight, and rough in the morning.



PSD

==========

This is the work of an Italian narco-anarchic collective. Don't bother insulting them, they can't read English anyway.