Dear Rhonda Perky’s Bits,
I have neglected you of late.
The winter chill has finally made its way into my bones, and the office lurgy has successfully filtered its way through the reconstituted air to settle in my chest and lungs.
Instead of champagne I find myself sipping thermos-flavoured soup, and my silk-stockinged legs seek the comfort of flannelette. Worse, in place of my stilettos, I don a pink pair of slipper-socks and cover my knees in a crocheted granny-rug.
I even missed my naked moonlight-dance and bi-annual goat sacrifice that would normally mark the solstice.
Rest assured, as soon as I am rested, I will be back online, delving under the covers, this time for a bit of extreme burlesque. Stay tuned…