Three days is a lifetime on the internet. I know that. Trouble is that I'm ill. I travelled from Norwich to my grandparent's house by train and during the latter leg of my journey some bastard bastarding yuppie chose to sat next to me with his off-the-peg suit, Daily Telegraph and generalised aura of evil. He then proceeded to cough his yuppy lurgy all over me without covering his mouth with the inevitable result: I'm a sick and snotty young woman.
Don't cry for me, for I have Lemsip. Still, it's a pain in the arse and with your permission I'll wait a few days before getting down to Topshop Adventures Part Deux. I want a clear head and a full grasp of basic grammar to properly do justice to the subject.
Bloody yuppies. I feel so yicky. At least Patrick Bateman had follow-through.
Love,
Becky.
