in which Bethy wants an egg

I was told off this evening for lying on the floor reading magazines and listening to music “like a teenager”

Whatever. When I was a teenager I didn’t have an awesome jumper with deer and foxes on. Or awesome pixie boots from Paris. Or orange cats (The Noo was black, and if I was lying on the floor she’d sit on my back). When I was a teenager the NME was a newspaper and cost 85p and had good bands in it.

I really want an egg. When I was a teenager I could eat eggs. Heck, last year I could eat eggs. I wish eggs didn’t hate me now. I love you eggs, can’t we start over? I’ll dunk chips in you and mop up the yolk with a thick crust of bread.

I finish at my job on Friday. I wonder if they’ll let me wear owls and squirrels at my new job. They don’t have much choice really – you want Bethy, you get woodland critters!

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