Glasgow

I went over to Glasgow today to meet up with my main bitches, Gabby and Janette. If the three of us were in a women's prison (think Bad Girls) - Gab and Janette would be the top dogs. I would be their dosile slave. I would peel their grapes and feed them chocolates. I would light their fags for them, polish their steel-toecapped boots and probably announce their arrival to the women of B wing, making sure they scatter before my ladies arrived.

As it is, we are not convicts.

We are just fabulous.

Janette and Gabby had come up from London to see Robbie Williams play Hampden Park in Glasgow last night. They stayed overnight in the city and had most of the day free, today, before flying back down south.

We had a high old time. Pizza, booze, shoplifting... A perfect day.

Sadly, though, dear reader, the batteries on my camera ran out the very moment I'd asked a Costa waiter to take our photograph. My only other means of capturing the moment was my not-very-good-camera-phone. The waiter duly obliged. Gabby mentioned something about size. The waiter gave her a knowing look and shot!

Gabby did seem obsessed with size today. I've never realised this before today, but she is a size queen. Even when we were children, whatever I had, she always wanted the same, but bigger.

I've made a poem up about her:

In Glasgow, she saw the jocks!
"These are kilts," they said, "not frocks!"
She wastes no time when opportunity knocks!
Lifts up said kilt, to see big cocks!

I know it's rubbish, but it is late, dear reader.