Take me out to the black, tell 'em I ain't coming back

Can I start by professing my love for Paul Bettany? ( Wimbledon rocked my socks. )

The latest British TV wonder was a couple of telefilms called Sex Traffic, about
the traffic of women in Eastern European. Brilliant. Harsh and brilliant and
frightening and hopeful and just brilliant.

Now, later today I' going to check out a drama class and a dance class. Well,
more like look in on the dance and give a hand for the drama. And it's the
holidays! Which means no internet access, guys, so I'll be scarce for about 10
days. (And no, twixou, I can't check hotmail! Free or freesbee is
the way to go.) On next Friday the family's visiting, yipee! And bringing us
wine and champagne goodness, for which I'm ever so grateful. I do love some
things about my country. ;)

And finally, I wanna gush over the cuteness of kids sometimes. I'm done teaching
in primary school, so I said bye to the kids. One of them asked me if I taught
in high school, I said yes. So he said that wicked, maybe he'd see me again
when he was older. I was quite sorry to shatter his hopes. Another one asked me
if I was a real French, not just half-French. Kids can be so great sometimes.

(And I recommend the movies Wilde and A Man of no importance - not the
adaptation of the play, mind you, if there is one. *sends love to Rufus Sewell*)