The weather is finally, FINALLY on the turn and so it seems is my love life, although the outlook for the latter is not necessarily very sunny. The Stuntman has hilariously (and predictably) not troubled himself to get in touch since his effusive offer of the free holiday we were never, ever going on. Not a peep!
A confession: The Beau is back on my radar if not yet in my bed. My head is ruling that I shouldn't go anywhere near the lying, married, double-exclamation mark-loving ratbag but my ego is shamelessly loving that he still cares enough to pursue me after several weeks of me blanking him at every turn.