mary-ann kept her man in porcupine gloves...
versailles was lovely. cold, but lovely. parents are sinking into degenerate right-wingedness; if i hear 'chuh. look. foreign' one more time someone is going to get hurt. more specifically, step-father is degenerating into tory-graph thought rapidly. mother is fine, though occasionally wincing at her new husband's impatience and intolerance. it happens to men, apprently; they don't have the monthly sulk/scream/shout/eat/create period, so they save it all up and let it go when they hit 50-odd. explains a lot, n'est-ce pas? and to think i always thought i fancied older men; i'm getting to the age where the word 'older' no longer acquires meaning for anyone 25+ but more like 35+, which puts them so much closer to the grumpy-old-man stage than before. i should probably start investigating younger men, but frankly, i'm not sure there's much hope there either (younger is still 20+, and let's face it, what any 20+ young man makes up in stamina, he almost ceratainly lacks in what might euphemistically be called 'life experience', unless he's frankly stunning and a bit loose, in which case he most likely wouldn't fancy me, raddled old hag that i've become). perhaps, then, i ought to simply take up with slightly older men, and ditch them when they start to show signs of needing to get up at 5:30 am 'to beat the rush' and being rude to waiters simply because they don't speak a foreign language (in this case, english, despite the fact that i can speak perfectly adequate restaurant french). i would recommend this to every woman as a life strategy, because if you find that the chap in question never gets like that, you're clearly onto a winner, so you wouldn't have to ditch anything precious. i might market this, write a patronising book that assumes the reader's intelligence to be slightly less than that of a stunned earthworm, sell ten million copies and retire. to somewhere hot, and be known as 'that bitter man-hater'. hmmm, may have to work on that one.