Boris left me some written instructions, so today was the day to get some of her work done.
So, off I go. Um, erm, what the... ah. Oh, no that doesn't work.
Maybe she meant, er... no. That isn't it either.
No, not that. And... not that. Roll of the eyes.
Grrrr!
I'm already feeling fucking vulnerable, or as the current crop of princess' would say, in a valley girl accent, I'm not feeling safe with all of this. 😆
Anyway, after half an hour of fumbling about like a virgin with a condom on his first date, I chucked out Boris' notes, saying to myself, you want something done, you better learn how to do it yourself, we all know that.
And, bing, bang, bong, all done.
Jesus fuck me dead, you can't fucken trust anyone any more.
Seriously, Boris, your notes were rubbish.
Anyway, big exhale, good thing I am moderately clever, hey?
I sent Boris a questioning email to Lapland.
I've been listening to Wings, Band on the Run. I forget how great this album is.
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