I owe you five farthings, say the bells at St Martin's...

Where is everybody? Is it something I said? o_O

edit: Gah Roger! What's with the luminous yellow Bandana of Doom? It's a *tennis court*, with *lights*. You don't need to wear reflective clothing for people to see you.

edit: Once again, I find myself liking Fabrice Santoro. Always have, inexplicably. Not that I'm cheering for him to beat Roger, but it's still nice to see him play, since I haven't in a while.

When I grow rich, say the bells of Shoreditch...

Smallsecondcousinleaningovermyshoulderandexpectingmetotalktothemomghelp.

Though I am telling her that she has a right to be bought any books that she wants, on the grounds that it broadens her horizons. I've told her she has to read the Narnia series, all the Harry Potter books and Peter Pan and she should pester her 'rents for them insistently. And I bribed her onto my side by lending her Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator.

My cousin is going to *hate* me. *grins*

Also, my terrible awful Sky box failed to record Roger's match last night. *rage* I recorded an hour and a half of it on the highlights today, but I wanted to *keep* that match. *woe*

Clo