Google has a leaping frog where the "l" should be.
A couple of my colleagues at uni told me this is the one day of the year when girls can ask out blokes (and *gasp* even ask for the bloke's hand in marriage!). Which seems rather sad and I don't know if it's even true or they are just pulling the leg of the furriner.
In any case, let's take it as a slightly odd traditional (if not tribal) custom and, in the spirit of the day dear readers, take this as an open invite to join me whenever you are in my part of the world. You will, almost certainly, not have a good time. I hate good times as much as I hate the idea of good. Or time. I actually think I don't much like time.
Where was I? Time. Of course. Did anyone else see the episode of Lost yesterday when Desmond (and who knew a haircut and the addition of a long, Tom Baker-y scarf would make Des oh-so-fanciable, eh?) time travelled?
Wait--oh, yes, good time. No, that will probably not be on the agenda. At all. But I've almost perfected the interested nodding and the encouraging hums so don't be discouraged. I can hold up my end of a conversation. Or, if more than one of yous were to want to join me, I can hold up various conversations.
As noted here. I can hold various conversations at the same time. Right. Invite. Whenever yous are in town. Drop me a line.