I love boys. Yes, I know I’m a lesbian, but let me quantify: I love the attention. I don’t actually think I look anything special. Yes, I know I’m tall and relatively thin and Zoë assures me that I’m blonde (I would have thought it was mousey-brown myself) but I never think much of the reflection that stares from the mirror back at me. It is a worrying thing of growing old that I look in a mirror and see my Mother looking back. Still, no-one else seems to notice.

Take tonight. We had our meal in the fancy restaurant, and at the end when I went over to pay, two blokes who had apparently been eyeing me up plucked up the courage to ask Zoë if she would let me know they were interested in asking me out for a date. Awwww! Bless! She had to tell them though that I was lesbian, and that she was my partner. Still, it made me glow inside when I found out. You see, I always appreciate attention, and it is nice to know that others find me attractive. It gives the old ego a massage.

At the end of the meal, as the restaurant owner knows me so well (I used to almost live in the place when I worked as a journalist and even did a live broadcast to Sky TV and News 24 from the bar – long story), we got brought a wonderful lemon alcoholic drink that was very refreshing. So nice in fact, we went and tracked down a bottle afterwards in a shop and bought it. It tastes like alcoholic lemon sorbet, and it is so nice.

Over the meal I had an idea for a sci-fi story. I’ll make a note and add it to the ideas pile. It’s about a time machine with a twist, but I’ll get the idea hammered out a little more first. However, it will explain why the crucifiction wasn’t like Woodstock – I mean, if time travel were possible, it would be, wouldn’t it?