Georgia nicolson 07 startled by his furry shorts

servants is that they should serve the public, i.e., me, but they just don‘t get it.

2:00 p.m.

Forty-five years of being cooped up at Stalag 14 interrupted by only two Jammy Dodger breaks.

Should I have posted the letter?

2:30 p.m.

What does it matter, anyway—with my luck it will either not get there, or he will not bother to reply, and then I will have been rejected by practically every man on the planet.

3:00 p.m.

Keeping mum as two short mums. Even though the ace gang have been asking me what is going on