Starbuck's marry-time adventure
Well, my years of Sega Rally 2 addiction have paid off, as I powerslide across glassy roads of ice, and plow through drifts of crunchy snow. My aim - to get home as fast as my little Peugeot could take me.
The reason for such reckless motoring abandon?
I have something very special to give to my girlfriend. (No, not that!)
Something I've been wanting to ask her for a long time.
Something that'll bring us even closer. Something exciting.
A clue for anyone who knows the one whom DJ Tim monickered "LL" ("Little/lovely L")... next time you see her, look at her ring. (No, not that ring! What's wrong with you people?)
If on the very off-chance anyone who knows her reads this beforehand, please keep schtum until I give the word. Its still a secret...
My visceral nervous system is feeling that extreme-excitement-nervousness-sensation. Butterflies in the tummy and that. But lovely, big, beautiful, joyous butterflies, rather than crappy dust-enshrouded moths.
So in a few minutes we're off to Pizza Express, that least romantic of places in which to ask someone to marry you. (Y'see, it was a Pizza Express where we both realised that we couldn't keep our feelings for each other from showing, where we both saw that we were more than just friends...)
So I type as I wait for her to come downstairs. C'mon, woman, how longs it take to get ready? (Pah - I'm getting that most-married bad attitude all ready!)