Well, strictly speaking for the pedants out there, the tail end of December (28th to be precise). Picture this, the gluttonous after festive period where you don't know what day or even month it is. You only know you're not due back in work yet. I jest, student midwifery is relaxing to the holiday period as a naked streaker in a lion pit.... happily putting away the to-do list until the 3rd load of Christmas pots have been soaked for another day. There is wine. Lots of wine. And a debit card. So here I am. In France. With an over stimulated over tired (and quite frankly far too fidgety for the metal bunk bed I'm laying perilously underneath) Small. A shit ton of shopping in the hope that I shan't spend a small fortune in Disneyland tomorrow, and a snow white dress placed just so. Because I did really well at the not feeding into this crypto-facist-fake-forced-stereotyped-gender Disney princess shit... (Wifeyo, 2019 -ta Rhi!) Not quite the comedy of errors as m
Insatiable Small vs. the world. One proud owner, vaguely responsible. Enquire within (Returns not accepted, must go as pair).