Still no word from the Iceman which must mean:
a) He has been kidnapped by aliens, taken back to their planet in the Horsehead Nebula where there is no wifi or phone signal and is being forced to do Rude Things with them
b) He has dropped his phone down a drain where it has drowned or onto a train track where it has been run over and crushed to death or down a puffin’s burrow over the weekend in Iceland. A puffling has swallowed it and is now gravely ill.
c) He has fallen in love with an long-lashed, luxuriant-maned Icelandic mare called Sylvia, as in The Goat, or Who is Sylvia? by Albee, but starring a mare rather than a goat, and is embarrassed about it and doesn’t want to tell me
Anyway, must move on it seems. Have been Tindering a bit whilst enjoying my ill health at the parental home. This message came through from one foreign chap:
“Hello. You have a stunning pictures of beautiful figures. Lovely to meet you 🙂 (sic)”
So that is nice.
The wine merchant/ helicopter pilot is back from Hungary and has been messaging too. A French chap sends what has to be an almost perfect message:
“Do you like red wine? Let’s meet for a drink tonight?”
There is yet another one who is in the Household Cavalry and wants to meet me. Excited! He has a gorgeous profile photo of him hosing down one of his 35 horses. Is good to have a few pots on the boil, as they say, although one is bound to spew boiling water all over the hob, another one to get a burnt bottom and a third to set the smoke alarm off somehow.
Sadly I have to have to have to put them all off until after 9th August. Simply can’t meet strangers whilst am in this mental state: am possibly a danger to self and others.
Will leave you with a photo of #mostbeautifulcatever