Planet Mad

Went out this afternoon to be naughty with Mark, as organised under the affluence of incahol last Saturday. We ate lunch in a very swish restaurant (yummy artichoke soup just like me ma used to make, an interesting swordfish bake thing and then the most luscious chocolate pudding thing in the history of puddings), I spilt food down my cleavage, at which point Mark gave up on his crusade to improve my social skills, we tried on hats in John Lewis and House of Fraser and then mooched the streets of Nottingham in a free-from-all-responsibility sort of way. Am now feeling fat and wided-eyed-caffeine-overdosed: it's the price you have to pay for being a social butterfly, I suspect!