I can't remember how to flirt...

My Beast is rusty. I fear I have neglected him. I'm finding bits of him on the floor and am feeling guilty for not sorting this out earlier. Admittedly he is pretty old and his rust bits probably compare to my wrinkles, suggesting we've both had a good life. But it's now time to organise some tlc for the Beast, my facelift will just have to wait. I'm pretty handy at sprucing up the inside of my van but when it comes to the mechanics of it I'm rather ignorant. Bubble gum and tippex will not work apparently. I'm going to have to pay for it.

Last weekend I got to go and watch some stock car racing in Broughton. I saw this as an opportunity to mix with some possible, potential, eligible bachelors. So I washed and blow dried my hair, put on some makeup and wore my favourite black suede, high heeled boots. And what a fool I looked! The heavens opened and the field was just a pure mud bath. I stepped out of the car and sank straight into the mud then I had to squelch through the field, tottering on my heels with rat tail hair flapping in my face smudging my mascara into panda eyes. It appeared I was the only person not wearing wellies and overalls that day.

Yesterday I chose my location more carefully for my manhunt. The World Museum in Liverpool. Not a great choice as very few people there, so Pip and I decided to head to the Albert Dock and treat ourselves to a sneaky glass of wine. The bar we chose was full of men, wall to wall. And this is the moment I discovered I've forgotten how to flirt! I just sat there like a lemon not knowing what to do. I've been single far too long and am going to have to look into flirting lessons, if there is such a thing...

Still love my old Beast...

Stuck in the mud...

Museum trip...

Failing at flirting...