So, "Perfume" is a particularly insane film.
Weekend was immense. Friday was exceptionally delicious, saw three of my favourite girls, another sweetheart on Saturday and other much-missed faces over the weekend. This week is already looking set to be pretty manic so I'm trying to organise my diary. Lots of things to look forward to.
Feeling very calm and happy, despite some weird kind of "jaw-ache". Mother is currently trying to force-feed me petit-filou. Why is it that when you once vaguely mention to your mum that you "quite like" something they then buy multipacks of it and then when it goes uneaten and expires buy even MORE multipacks? I think it's cause she worries about my calcium intake, probably best examplified by her insistance that I "used to drink pints of milk every day". This is true. I was six. It was served in a sippy cup.
I expected that one or two people would be told a story - not very fair, was it?
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