1 April
‘Any dates?’
I ramble about the guy on Sunday expecting girls to text thank you. Daniel has come over for a chat as I’m working out. I’m slightly delirious. We’re back on track. Talking normally again. The awkwardness has gone. He’s noticed I’m back on track (lost the extra few pounds).
‘Check my stomach!’ I say.
‘I know! I was in the right position when you were dancing around in on the step machine!’
‘Are you still going?’ I ask.
‘Yes.’
‘Have you got somewhere to live?’
‘Haven’t started looking.’
‘Oh.’
‘Did you used to watch Robin’s Nest with… who was it?… Richard O’Sullivan.’
‘Yes.’
‘That would be perfect. You me and…’.
‘I don’t think Sam would go for it.’
‘No but…’.
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About
‘When I grow up I’m going to marry a prince, Granny.’
Fast forward 27 years. I’m a hot, successful, kind and affectionate, officially ‘grown up’ girl-about-town. Still in search of The One. It’s New Year’s Eve and I’m in bed. Alone. Tanked up on Valium.
The quest has been active now for the best part of 20 years. I know he’s out there. I just need to find out where and how to find him. Things have got to change.
This is going to be my year. I just know it. So I have decided to document my experiences to amuse more than anything else. In so doing, the creative process may provide some kind of personal enlightenment and help face my demons too. And who knows. The journey may lead me to my prince. And where the chronicles begin.
