Oh dear Paula… I just can’t understand why I’m not getting the hang of this at all… I don’t know what I’m doing wrong… I’ve never ever felt so inadequate in my life.
I have a bit of a secret love affair with the spitfire aeroplane… it’s a boy thing, without being patronising, you wouldn’t understand… I used to make airfix kits ov’em… and then balsa models… now I’m all growed up
I got a couple of radio control spits… and I go weak at the knees when I see’em in the air… now I’m in this new place… I didn’t realise I live on the flight path for Southampton airport where there’s a few based… oh my god… when they fly over me… I get a lump in my throat, and I’d love to just sit in one, let alone fly one but… this roots thingy is like being given the opportunity to fly one, being helped up into the cockpit with a smile from ear to ear and a soppy grin on me face and being totally unable to move or think… I hope you understand what I’m trying to say…
I’m so happy, yet sad and annoyed with meself for being so stupid. I don’t know why. I felt so chuffed the other day when I thought I had it… even telling meself what a stupid sod I’d been, and how could I not have understood it… it must have been a wicked dream, sumin to do with the drugs… ohhhh.
I don’t want to get too annoyed, or I can see me slamming the top down on the laptop… and forgetting the whole idea… don’t spose being in so much pain all the time helps… never mind… every day in every way… thanks for listening