Sundays, the best day of the week

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Dictionary definition of Anne Pank on Sundays

Dictionary definition of Anne Pank on Sundays

When I’m not in the gym first thing Sunday morning, bench pressing 20 kilos (!!), I like to relax with a nice, lllooooong lie-in.  So long sometimes it can even last until Monday when I have to go to work.  So technically, this ceases to be a lie-in and is indeed, ‘bedridden’.

Sunday lie-ins are marvellous and one of my favourite things to do, preferably with another man being, (‘A’ man being, not ‘another’ man being because I am a woman being.  And allegedly an English teacher!)  Because man beings are fun to have around and contact with other humans, male or female, is good sometimes and on a practical note, for a bit of extra warmth.  Someone cool and attractive and funny, who you can read the Sunday papers with, which have been delivered so as not to require leaving the house at any point, chat with, snuggle up to with your delightfully fragrant morning breath, put the world to rights and do a bit of the s*x with.

But failing that idealised romantic view of Sunday mornings, in your shabby-chic European bedroom that’s all dreamy and floaty and white, with shutter doors that open out onto a little balcony, and diaphanous drapes blowing in the breeze – a giant mug of tea, a packet of Oreos/pork pies/bacon flavour Ruffles – delete as appropriate- and re-runs of friends.  **sigh, what a wonderful life I have……..

French women DO get fat – hurrah!! (it says so in the Guardian)

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So, you know the image of the perfect French woman, all chic and slim and cool and chic and slim and cool and stuff…… multiply it by infinity and add a dash of dismissive arrogance, then you’ve got my pre-conceived idea of a typical Parisienne.  And so the thought of going to a city full of these Stepford standard automatons filled me with overwhelming dread.

But wait, what’s this?  If this article in The Guardian online today is anything to go by, then it means I can completely relax my ‘Operation Preparation Paris’ immediately.  YAY!!!

Cancel manicure, pedicure, personal training sessions, spa-day including facial infused with the tears of angels, powdered unicorn horn body buff-n-scrub, mop-down with a damp sponge, seaweed wrap, colonic and massage, hair cut, colour and transplant, arm-lift, face-lift, bum-lift, eyelash and teeth lift, stop Dukan, California, 5~2, Atkins and ‘fluff and air’ diets and return the thousands of euros  of clothes, shoes, bags, perfume, accessories and obligatory small handbag dog I purchased today on a shopping panic rampage.

Where’s those pork pies?

Oh, and my dealer text

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with an offer I couldn’t refuse.  First she tried to tempt me with a photo, then she gave me the hard sell, you know, the usual, ‘look, they’re not your average product…… etc. etc.’

So I said, ‘oh go on then’ and I’m meeting her later to collect.

and the goodies in question?  Pork pies!

The British lard dealer is in town – Oh yeah, COME TO MAMA!

My day

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Ah, what a cute papi kissing the head of his baby all snuggled up in the papoose, snarl, gggrrrr, schnarlllll.   Look, just look at the beautiful flowers along the Passeig, isn’t life wonderful?  Ggrrlll, schnarrrlll, grrrrrr……. I can’t believe how in love they are, how sweet snaaaAAARRRlll, ggrrrrr, schnaarlll!!!  Too adorable, I want to take the French Bulldog puppy home in my handbag SCCHHNNAARRRRLLLLLLL!!!!

Them hormones is some MF bitches today gurl!!

It is quite possible

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that I may have met the male equivalent of myself!

So then does that mean that I’m a complete narcissist to find him so irresistibly attractive?

I can talk a LOT.  I can talk a lot of sh*t.  (You may have noticed).  Also, I say things often, mostly to amuse and entertain myself.  (I’m very sure you’re not supposed to laugh at your own work quite as much as I did while writing the first ‘Thought for the day’.)   I find strange things interesting and funny.

So multiply that by approximately 1045.062 and you might have a rough idea of the type of character I’m talking about!  If we share a very similar sense of humour, it’s a fist pump moment.

I like big, tall men, it’s true.  I really like big, tall, strong men who can toss you around like a pork chop. They’re great fun.  I like handsome men – obviously, which woman in her right mind doesn’t (Mr Clooney, if you’re reading this, call me).

I like all those things, but I LOVE big brains, and no that is not a euphemism for something else.  But, and it’s an important but, if you can combine the big brain and reduce me to tears or make me almost spurt water out of my nose because I’m laughing so much, you more than trump every, single one of the things above, EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.

*spurting water out of nose not particularly attractive, but excellent measure of funniness!