OK, the gist of it is that He still hasn't come up with the photos, and has decided to point out, to all and sundry, my facial likeness to that of Tintin. Look, this isn't on - I could be scarred for life by this sort of stuff. Why not compare me to Arnie, or Rambo? Tintin, tch. Belgian as well...
So, in place of a decent photo of myself, here's the dog I want for Christmas. He's a cross between something shaggy, and something white, and is called 'Milou'. Oh, and he woofs. In French? Hmmm.
Smiles - the power unleashed by a smile is not to be believed until seen. I've been giving Them hell for the past few weeks, and to be honest, I may have overdone it a bit. He has taken to sleeping downstairs - She has taken to sleeping all afternoon, and not bothering with make-up. So I thought to myself, this ain't getting me the attention I deserve, so I decided that last week, at five and a half weeks, it was time to twist my lips a little, and open my mouth. You know what I mean - just the hint of happiness. They dissolved completely, and started gurning at me, all blooming day!
Was I wise? Too early to tell, yet, but hopefully, it should pay off for Christmas. I need a few toys, and some decent smart clothes. All my best toys and clothes are from friends - They dress me in hand-me-downs. Sartorial elegance I am not.
Time to go now, so I'll leave you with a (possible) image of me in 17 years time, with my bags packed, and my dog by my side. Long time to wait, 17 years... 