Ok, have to admit I have a hangover today, but I had such a good night it was worth it.

We found a fab bar where we could sit upstairs looking out of a huge window and with two of the biggest squishiest settees in the world.

I love getting together with my mates cos we really talk about everything. We shared a few bottles of wine and some gnachos and it was really good. Unfortunately I can’t remember alot of what we talked about but I’m sure it will come back in bits and pieces throughout the day. (As will possibly the Gnachos).

Mr B coped admirably with the Beaufoix babes and although I was up with M at 6am he did let me go back to bed for a sleep at about 9am so I don’t feel too bad apart from the hammer inside my head and the blurred vision.

Due to the above head situation I’m going to give you the pleasure (hopefully) of posting a couple of daft poems for you to enjoy while I’m recovering.

Razor d’etre?
Oh why , oh why do men have beards?
What for the hairy faces?
As if they haven’t got enough
Of hair in other places

I know that brows protect the eyes
and also do the lashes
But see no purpose in the beards
and less so in moustaches

Those bristly chins and whiskery grins
Disturb me to the core
And hugs from Grandads, Uncles, Dads
Just leave my skin all sore

Most women have a smoother chin
No gravy lingers there
No crusty bits, or mice or nits
Are nesting in their hair

A bushy beard is frankly weird
A hairless chin I’d rather
And if you just sport the winter sort
Then buy a balaclava

No offence to anyone with beards by the way. I just never quite got over The Twits.

Come Dancing?

I like to dance at bus stops
I do it all the time
I grab hold of perfect strangers
Though often they decline

I try to make them tango
I do the foxtrot too
I know it’s kind of silly
But I rarely have to queue

Happy Bank Holiday everybody.