With wilful neglect I left The Muse chatting up a dodgy Greek waiter last month.
I was fed up with her fickle ways and smug tones and I got on the plane home without her. She looked happy enough in my silver lurex bikini and genuine Dolechee and Kebabbana sunglasses but she still hasn't come home.
I don't mind about the erratic shopping lists, or the sloppily constructed notes to the Feckers, but I have half a mind to do some writing but she is still having a blonde moment and is romancing Panos Christos Mikos Stupidos in some bar in Kalamaki.
Anyway while she is getting her slut fix I wondered what it would be like to be a Muse, an inspirational, creative juice enhancing Minx! Heh heh....
(Minx with a pearl earring and a rather fetching hair wrap)
(Mona "fat cheeks" Minx)
(Marie Antoinminx - loving the hair extensions!)
Oh dear, the King of Muse would be turning over in his grave....
(Bard from an awful lot of pubs)
Anyway, if you see the harlot, send her home and tell her to bring some more of those nice olives. If not then please just share your musings in the box provided below and hopefully I can at least have a laugh.