The spell seems to be working! (Which is really amazing seeing as I did it so badly.) A workman wolf-whistled at me this morning. And didn’t shout abuse. (I was wearing my new turquoise tunic. I have discovered if you wear a belted tunic over trousers and high heels you look vastly thinner without having to diet. This was, actually discovered ages ago by Gok Wan et al., but has taken this long for me to implement it.) And the workman was quite decentish to look at, too, and when I glanced back at him he waved at me. (There was a finger or two raised in there, but he was smiling broadly so I don’t think he meant to be rude.)
And then when I got into work Daddy’s girl had moved off to another office, and Michael ACTUALLY RANG ME to ask if I wanted to go out to dinner with him on Friday! So I’m in the mood to celebrate, and Jo has brought in some shortbread. Which isn’t a very celebratory food really. In fact, it’s the sort of snack you have to mentally gather your strength for, even though it is nice. (Though it’s raspberry shortbread, so that might be different.)
Well, I never believed in witchcraft before, to be honest. I thought it was a load of poo. Sinister poo. But maybe it isn’t.
