Healthfucked, I’ve not been doing much of late. I mope mostly.
There’s a YouTube series I’ve taken to watching, about a couple who’ve escaped the inhospitable London “rental market” in favour of cruising around the country by narrowboat.
It consists mostly of idyllic b-roll of sleepy fields and ducks a-dabbling, but sometimes they moor up in one of those city centre waterfronts surrounded by All Bar Ones. When this happens, our heroes indulge in “porthole cinema,” watching the Muggles scatter back and forth between lunch engagements.
If that’s ever us, I vow, let’s make sure our sex time coincides with business lunch and that the salad eaters can see our bottoms going up and down through the porthole. Just perfectly aligned.