Here I am, one month before my thirtieth birthday, and do I feel my age? Nope, I feel fifteen. Everyone remember being fifteen? The drama, the crushes, the racing heart, the giggling? Well, yesterday I took a trip don't memory lane courtesy of Blottedcopybook. After reading about my latest celebrity crush, she did the modern equivalent of passing him a note in class. She twittered him. And then she emailed him. Saying "My mate likes you." And then we spent the rest of the day giggling, with me blushing bright red every time I think about it. I'll never sleep again, lest he actually twitters me back. Or sends an injunction.
So I'm not actually here right now, I'm at Treefest. And with the heavens chucking it down, I'm probably cowering inside my tent, alone and destitute. I might even be reading the paper. Which will at least be more pleasant than reading the paper at home: