Sinking, gradually

It hasn't been a bad weekend, really, apart from it coming to an end all too soon, the weather has been OK, apart from the Glasgow experience, I've got out and about, albeit without K, because she went back to work on Saturday, I've had some unhealthy food and too much to drink, and fielded a nice text message from my friend at work telling me that his older son got the GCSE results he needed to get onto the apprenticeship/college course he wanted, citing some, as far as I'm concerned, very minimal help I gave in terms of advice on exam technique as a big deal. But, as the fourth of my five days off is coming to its end, I'm beginning to feel thoroughly down in the mouth. The reason, mostly, anyway, is predictable enough - boys, of course. It started almost as soon as I walked out of the front door this morning, a coltish cutie with his dad making his way down the hill into our local town centre, followed by numerous 'untouchables' on view as I meandered through town, and culminating in a group of three 12/13 year olds, with a couple of girls (one of whom was cute enough in her own right), I encountered during a change of buses not too far from Heathrow this afternoon. I would, without hesitation, have taken any or all of them home, even though only one of them was a real cutie, but, needless to say, there was more chance of getting to the moon by flapping my arms than ever getting close to any of them. The sooner my hiccuping heart knocks me over definitively, the better.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B