Thursday, 5 February 2009


My in box tells me that Julia Bunch wants me to message her when I get a second, while Julia Ross wants to chat and Julia McKinney suggests we get naked.

Well that sounds like fun but it's snowing outside, Ms McKinney,. Why on earth would one want to strip off in the middle of an otherwise uneventful morning at the office? Should we not have a nice cup of tea instead?

Dear God, do these women nor realise how busy I am? I don't have time to fiddle around all day on msn, chatting. Of course not. I'm much too busy checking my ranking on Amazon (24,002 as I speak) and checking my messages in the vain hope that the ex husband, to whom my 24,002nd most popular novel on the whole of Amazon is dedicated, might, just might, have remembered that today was P day, and called, texted or otherwise said 'well done'.

But nothing.

Of course, says the stern dominatrix in my head with a severe lash to the ego, what did you expect? That's where the 'ex' part comes in. You might have felt sentimental enough to have left the dedication in, but you can't really wonder that a man who's decided he doesn't want to live with you any more is going to be equally sentimental and spring for the celebratory lunch, or the bouquet of flowers, or even - apparently - even the friendly phone call. He's probably only relieved that the book is not more autobiographical.

However, there's always the next one.

But in the forlorn world of the single white published female, there are consolations. Julia Bryant loved my pics, and Julia Rinehart thinks she loves me. Julia Handy also thinks she loves me. Hey and Julia Green, Julia McKnight (who I'm sure had a brother called Eamon and went to my school), Julia Ellis , Julia Cartwright and even Julie Amherst - all in love with me. How wonderful to be so admired. I'm a lesbian legend in my own lunchtime. Who knew that I had this hidden following amonst women? Odd that they are all called Julia but, never mind. Thank God for Spam! Not only can I invest in Cahoots Bank and help my new friend Mr Zambogie in Nigeria to reclaim his fortune from an offshore account, but I can also get myself a brand new replica Tag Heuer with the proceeds.

On closer inspection my new found friends seem to be involved in some sort of Animal Rescue scheme and all want me to admire their cat later this evening on Yahoo Messengar (sic). I'm not much of a feline lover, but I appreciate the offer. It is rather sad when you get more affection from randomly generated email messages than you do from real life.

Julia Ashford's message to me in this morning's enquiries mailbox begin's 'Hey Babe', where as the Italian used to just send smiley faces. Ironic really when his own was always so darn miserable.