Youth Dew

Today I understood what it feels like to be a battery hen. I was one this morning. I already got off to a bad start as I forced myself into an overstuffed carriage and was pressed up against the door with my cheek sticking to the glass and my hands sprawled out in an SOS position. IT must have looked like that train was being hijacked. And what a bonus for Al Queida if they were to choose that train to blow up. I'm sure half of melbourne (who were on that train) would rain meat across the land. I finally got released at melb central and scampered (with damaged wings) off to work. I must say that I am enjoying glimpsing some fine looking athletes in our CBD. Nice eye candy. Speaking of which, here is a gratuitous photo of a black jamaican in lycra....Oh how I'd like to share a coconut with him. I must confess to having a bit of a crush on an english swimmer. What is it with the englishman theme...?? That Simon Burnett is rather dishy. After spending my Friday night with another delightful and delightfully young (though emotionally mature) englishman, I'm beginning to wonder whether that nation provides more of a drawcard than I realise. Is it their properness, manners, rigid charm??? There's something about spending time with someone younger that gives you such a fresh outlook, makes you feel less constrained and inspires you to laugh and be mischievious. Even if I did feel like a Mrs Robinson, toy boys are the new black....If it works for Ashton and Demi, Madonna and Guy.....they have the right idea! Who needs oil of olay when you could have...on no wait...I'm not saying that...