under the blanket

"I've just been drifting for a while now. It's time for me to fall in love."

A lazy drizzly Sunday afternoon spent in bed, catching up on my emails. Finally got round to looking at this site with quotes eavesdropped on the Tube, which is where the above came from.

More gems:
"I think you have put me off sex forever."
"Excuse me...you have some sleep in your eyes."
"This love thing...it's not a game, you know?"
"When I was young I was so short that my legs didn't reach the ground."
"Gordon, have you ever considered that I might not be gay?"
"I've gone mouldy between my legs."
"There is a touch of vomit still on your lapels."
"Of course I love you. I tell you every bloody day."
"I live in a creative vacuum. It's a Dyson."
"I am very nearly cured of happiness."
"I love eating my scabs. I can't help it."
"I am not your father. Stop calling me dad."

There's something about British humour. Somehow, I doubt I can overhear such stuff on the MRT.

All of a sudden, I feel like I'm back in my little flat in London. The weather is cold outside, I'm nice and toasty under the blanket. I'm all alone, and I just made excessive amounts of pasta to feed myself for both lunch and dinner. Has it already been a year since I spent winter in London?