THOSE BLOODY WOMEN AGAIN

I've been like a junkie today-sweating, chain-smoking
using the loo a lot (no change there then)and constantly
thinking about Alan. Angela said I was a dead loss and sent
me home at 1pm, (which was great) I managed to find myself
on the Embankment Bridge looking out over the Thames. They
say the water is cleaner now (they lie) it was the colour
of chocolate truffles. Still I have a soft spot for old
London (in the head)and sometimes wonder if I will ever
leave it. Can you imagine me in the country? Country pub
maybe, but I can't be doing with all that silence and
stuff, it would sent me ga-ga. I need bustle and trouble.
Then it happened-an old lime green D reg Escort pulled
up and out strode THE WOMEN WHO CHANGE CARS, they were
impeccably dressed as ever and would never see sixty again. They got into a fantastic! Gorgeous! Deep metallic blue Daimler! I wanted a car like that-so bad it hurt! I would sell my Vespa, nay I would sell my soul to own a vehichle like that. Who were these old girls? What was it with the cars? I had seen them three times to date now, would I ever find out what they were up to? Would it change my world?
I inhaled deeply on my metholated ciggie, the time was
ripe, I would go to Alan's place, see if he was ok.
Shag him senseless. Something about those bloody women was
so inspiring.
Becka