Christ on a
bike. I am beginning to think that it
wasn’t so bad in the house with a shitload of people after all. I have spent the day alone, which generally
suits me down to the ground, but it appears that the locals assume that any
western woman travelling alone is looking to be rogered!! It is a relentless barrage of attention (to
which I'm normally quite partial but this is overkill). This is where my new stalker comes in
handy. It appears that John is quite a
big shot in town so I say that I am here as his guest and this seems to
work. I am now apparently the equivalent
to a gangster’s moll. Ace!
I did meet
a nice bloke called Steve who has invited me out tomorrow to go and wash
elephants. Now as first dates go this is
a complete winner. It beats going to the
Wimpy (and I actually, oddly love the Wimpy).
He said that he would take me on his bike which I agreed to. He later showed me a whole bunch of pictures
on his phone. There was a picture of him
looking not dissimilar to John Meric. I
asked him what happened to his face, only for him to casually reply that he fell
off his bike (I really need to get this will sorted). Eekkk!!
I am now
sitting in the safety of the princess palace and am as happy as a pig in
shit. I have managed to speak to
Clarkey, Fish and Dad this week and laughed till it hurt so I’m a very content
girl. Maybe this is the turning point
and you will no longer have to listen to me moan my tits off everyday. Here’s hoping, for all out sakes.
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