Someone really should write a poem about jet lag. I am surprised that Wendy Cope has not done one actually. The way your mouth dries up and your eyes ache and your head is stuffed with straw and the way that your kids have zero difficulty sleeping ound the clock and are fresh as daisies the next day while you feel like you have been eaten by wolves and then thrown up.
Someone shoot me please
Someone shoot me please
1 comment:
aww hunny! Take the arnica. shove it in by the barrel full!!
Am in London this weekend so will catch up sunday
xxx
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