The scent of cherry blossom in the air is sweet and lovely.
Daddy, you bastard, I'm through.
What's happened to Mrs. Riseborough's house? It looks like a disaster has struck.
Student struck dead by lightning bolt when opening email.
Woo hoo! Won another Photo Face Off Challenge on Flickr!
And another one!
Why are urban fantasies always about the scruffy and the marginal? Proud, haughty Elves in HR seems much more likely.
Strange, autistic, alcoholic Billy in the park gave me a hug when I told him about Cholmondeley. It was oddly comforting.
(PS: if anyone should wish to find me on Twitter, I'm debbieg)