Amy.
Hello.
In lieu of writing about our recent visit to London I'll write about my dream last night. In it I was going out with Amy Winehouse and she, it transpired, was taking part in the competition to represent the United Kingdom in the Eurovision Song Contest. Unlike the actual competition, which was televised, the dream one was in a rather shabby church hall and Amy had to go on stage and play a grand piano.
Sadly her song wasn't very good and her performance was wobbly. When she came back to sit down at our table (one of those formica, circular affairs from off of the Seventies) we air-kissed and she asked me, in a voice like Janet Street-Porters, if it had gone as badly as she thought. I lied and told her it was great.
Then, just as I was thinking to myself, 'Hang on a minute, there's a very good reason why I'm NOT going out with Amy,' another bloke, really smarmy and posh, started to try and chat her up. As she grabbed my arm and tried to avoid him I woke up.
While I'm on the subject of 'Amys' the one I work with told me that her name comes up as 'Cow' when people are using predictive text, so she gets lots of text messages that start 'Hi, Cow.' Hilarious.
Regarding work: I gotta get out, I just gotta. Things aren't improving and I've learned of certain injustices that have deeply angered me. I find it difficult to tolerate being there at times, which therefore makes it hard to get on with things. And it's been a long time since so many of my friends and colleagues were actively looking for alternative employment.
Lastly, will it snow or won't it? The local BBC weather woman seems convinced it will, while the BBC's national weather website isn't even forecasting rain.
Back soon.