The Demise of the ATM ...

in my life, anyway.

I heard this morning on some (pea)podcast that a guy once thanked the cash machine that gave him his money. I thought that is something I might do, unthinkingly, just because I have a rainbow of cash in my grubby trotters. (A sliver of orange plastic, at least) I exist on credit, dear girl. It's all about the magnetic strip for me. And even that sometimes doesn't deliver. I feel a wave of relief rush through me when the console reads, 'APPROVED - Awaiting Signature'.

I had a dream about you last night, c. The little invisible heart strings were tugging away. It was the College Lawn (but looked more like The Lounge) and I was walking to the loo and saw you hangin' with your posse. We both looked at each other, mouths in mock-surprise and smiled. Good to see ya! (You cheating whore!)

I would like to be around a girl called Heather just to hear a cockney bloke say her name one day: ' 'ello eva'.

Yes, it's true. I am clean as a whistle, sharp as a thistle.