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Musettes n Couchettes

A musette is (can be) a little bag for carrying one's belongings whilst doing outdoorsy things. I've just discovered it can also be a bagpipe-esque instrument, which is irrelevant, but interesting. Anyhooo, he n me will be collecting our musettes for The Tweed Run before going to the theatre on BH Monday. It's a madly silly dressy-up event, where you wear tweed and cycle through London being jolly spiffy. Fun :)

A couchette is a sleeper train, which himself has decided will be our method of transport to get to the alps in July. I am sooooo looking forward to this, it'll be a madly romantic adventure.

I have now also paid for Dublin with Les Girls, so everything, bar half of the alps is done n dusted. Now I need to rein everything to save some spending money for Naples, Corfu, France, Dublin, Australia and not forgetting The Secret Garden Party. I really wish with all my heart that online shopping hadn't been invented! And probably booking flights and accommodation online as well, although my salary depends on it.

In other matters, we were watching First Dates, which is my guilty pleasure. I adore it! I get so emo when a couple actually hook up, you wouldn't believe it. Anyway, there was a lovely young girl there last night, with only one leg. She'd bravely worn a skirt. The FD people are careful to match people, and as it transpires, his Mum had died of cancer and she'd lost her leg to cancer. But Boo n me had a discussion about how/when you would mention a visible disability. He said that when he met gym-dude Drew, he asked straight out, no offence was taken, and in his instance, he was born minus an arm. I would be much more cautious, afraid of upsetting somebody. But perhaps that's not the right way. Or perhaps you have to judge each situation on the person, as you met them. I think these things should be open and disability should be open to discussion. But of course, you don't want to hurt anybody or make then feel different. A tricky one. Maybe bloke-to-bloke is easier?

I had a looong old journey to Heathrow for a conference yesterday. It really was a complete drag, nothing good about it at all. When I came home, I was ratty as hell. I am grateful that my partner recognises that better than I do.


Call me Madam

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