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I board the plane feeling no pain, eat the evening meal and continue with the G T theme, land in Gatwick and make the connection via the smoking area of the bar and another gulped Gordon's, then pass on the second offered dinner but not the accompanying booze and quietly pass out somewhere over director the West Midlands, to be woken by a dishy blonde with an impudent, dimpled smile and were here weve landed weve arrived, were on the stand at the airport and Id ask her what she's o.h.sayler funeral director doing later because Im drunk enough to not care when she says No as she probably will, but I know Im too tired and besides my left eyelid's stuck o.h.sayler funeral director again and I suspect it makes me look a bit like Quasimodo, so funeral director I dont say anything except, Uh, thanks, which is cool or sad, Im not director sure which. Tivia.com raven.
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