Well, That’s Nice

Well, it would appear that I have broken my only-being-fancied-by-old-men spell. On Sunday in the boozer, a group of young boys (we’re talking 21/22) told Mr P that I had been voted as owning ‘the best legs in Charnwood’.

All my feminist credentials, if I indeed had any to begin with, have been thrown out of the window. I’m dining out on this baby for a few months to come.

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