Lately, there's been an advertising campaign telling women to kick their men out of bed. It's known nas the lenor complex - the duvet and sheets smell so good, that you find excuses to get the bed alone. Strange knickers in the glove box, claiming that the postmans at the door or even accidently kicking the door closed when they go out for the milk.

This time, I've won the the war of the duvet. The bed is mine and only the cats with the smelly bums are there to contend. For Girlpants has gone away to places exotic. Another jolly. Only this time, he gets to shiver his skinny arse in Guernsey...

There is a God :o)

An island in the channel. With half a tanker visable offshore. And wind chill. The hotel does sound wonderful, and he gets to teach in the local Christian Centre. He didn't sound impressed but personally, I think it sounds wonderful. I think that he making a big deal of it and his complaining, but it's only because how he's feeling. Despite the meal, university expenses and the big queen size bed, he still misses me.

I may really really miss him.

But I don't miss the cold feet.

And I love the fact I have all of the duvet...