Going to bed last night I realised that not only was my face covered in glitter but I was a parrot short of a pair. Most annoying as they were my favourite earrings.
Hairdresser today where, in a posh fashionable clothes magazine, I saw an advert for flatulence filtering jeans. Would have thought that would be more appropriate in Saga or The Oldie mags. Surely young trendy women don't suffer with flatulence!
And this evening I discovered that the first chaplain was a Roman soldier named Martin. Martin?