Ok, I wasn't gonna blog this, because I didn't think anyone would believe me that I dreamt Damian Lewis and I were getting married in Italy BEFORE the media shoved the whole TomKat replicant compliance faux after-ceremony at Odescalchi down our throats. Ugghh! Those overexposed disciples of Xenu are the absolute bane of my existence and I never want to hear another utterance about them EVER EVER!
My dream was me giddily shopping in Italy for all the appurtenances befiting the occasion, including the wedding gown that looked like this, but more trashtastic, if possible (listen, the dream's gotta go bad somehow, or it wouldn't be my dream!) But honestly, even the horrid dress coudln't bring me down, I was so STOKED. The big event was all set to take place in a Tuscan field of wheat and poppies à la Room With A View...and then I woke up!
"Ginger Bond" (his words, not mine) can be heard every Friday for the next 2 months reading a selection from one of Ian Fleming's Bond Books on BBC Radio 2.
1 comment:
Ha! Trashtasctic!! That was a great dream Hoo.
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