It's that time of year...

...when David starts to sleep a lot.
Just like in April and May sort of time when my brain starts to wake up and I’m filled with the joys of Spring, at this time of year with the nights drawing in and the amount of melanin in my system declining I need my eight hours or more to keep body and soul together. This SAD stuff is weird; every year I find myself muttering ‘Gosh, I forget how badly I get this…’ before stumbling off to the nearest bedroom and flinging myself under the covers (often embarrassing when I’m at someone else’s house, or an old peoples home). At least in Summer when the days are long I’m cheery and vital and enthusiastic (Well, okay, I’m not, but at least I’m more energetically surly).
Roll on Spring, or, failing that, bedtime.
In other news, dear puddingcat found some David-appropriate shirts for me in the charity shops the other day; 44 chest and a neck measurement for someone who resembles a Sontaran, so naturally they fit me perfectly. I didn’t know they had any Sontarans in Stockport.

Alcohol does *what*, you say?

Reading my sisters copy of this months Eve (a crap magazine for girls) I discover that the latest scientific research has demonstrated ‘drinking wine can help you conceive’.

Well, you don’t say. I had always thought this the primary purpose of any alcoholic beverage, but it seems that girls are now getting wise to that little trick. It looks like I’ll have to resort to the weapon of last resort and rely upon my personality.

Sod that, I’ll just offer money.