Bongo and jazz

After last week's rather maudlin effort, I had to cheer myself up the only way I know how. Pornography.
Yes, I spent the weekend lookly through glossy magazines at beauty far beyond my reach. On the plus side, it made me smile and I saw what I fancied.
Yes. You've guessed it. It wasn't real pornography - airbrushed imbeciles with vacant smiles air-kissing the incredible pubic topiary (or lack thereof) of some other bimbo - but holiday brochures. Oh, how I wish (in all this sun and beautiful weather) that it was winter and I was up a mountain far away. Not - obviously - that I can afford it. But I have found the cheapest hotel and package in a place I want to go, and I'll be adding to my debt in the near future, no doubt.
I was also looking at a new mobile phone. Despite the fact that I don't use mine much, I want a new all-singing, all-dancing model. Hell, it's free, and I'll get free minutes to phone people on other networks, which might mean that I actually speak to them. Although it might turn out that I am just slack and it has nothing to do with counting the pennies...
And the new job is knackering me. I don't think it's necessarily the work - the hours are long and I'm using my brain more than usual - more than it is having to be out the flat by 8am. And then walking a mile and a half to the station. Which fails to wake me. Then the same walk home at the end of a day... La la la