Spooky

Fiona is back in town, staying the night with us before we head to Cambridge tomorrow for a little birthday treat with the parents. We've just walked down to Tufnell Park for food in a pub, before walking home across a spooky, and very dark Hampstead Heath. At one stage, as we crept along the tree-lined pathway towards the Women's Bathing Pond, things got very creepy indeed. There were strange noises in the undergrowth, and shadows seemed to be creeping out of shadows! The police tape covering the entrance to the pond itself was a little frightening. We remembered then that a woman's body has recently been found dead in the water. I sincerely hope they don't suspect foul play. Or should that be fowl play?

We told each other ghost stories, which didn't exactly

help matters, and were pretty relieved to see the lights of Spaniard's Lane!

Fiona reminded me of an incident which shocked us both yesterday as we were walking along the Archway Road. A bus drew up in front of us and a largish woman decided to make a dash for it. She was wearing a little chiffony skirt which was leaping up and down as she ran, revealing the most hideous things, which I can only describe as flaps of skin. I've no idea if I was looking at arse cheek or clunge, but it was naked flesh and it was wobbling around like a jelly in a tumble drier. Inexcusable.

Taking of inexcusable, I went to the gym this afternoon and was quite surprised to find a rather short man standing behind the counter waiting to take my card. I guess I've become rather too used to tall, bronzed Adonises at that place. So shocked, was I, in fact, that the thought that went through my mind actually tumbled out of my mouth, much to Nathan's desperate chagrin. I took one look at the man behind the counter and said one word, "tiny." What on earth will I be like when I'm old and senile?