Well, I might be stumbling inexorably into middle age, but I'm also a closet lesbian, apparently. This is what Hubby keeps telling me. His evidence is that I'm reading a book called 'women's barracks'. Yes, it is a title from the lesbian pulp fiction genre, but it was written in 1950, so it's really very tame, and I'm only reading it because it was written about a women's barracks in London during WW2 by a woman who was there, so the details (aside from pert breast showing beneath silk blouses, etc.) are all pretty authentic and useful for research. This is what I keep telling him. Anyway, it could be worse. I could be reading fifty shades of grey and forcing him into humourless and somewhat tiring S&M stuff (actually, I have only read a short excerpt of fifty shades of grey, so I may be doing the novel a disservice - perhaps it's not all about humourless and tiring S&M stuff, I wouldn't know, would you?)...Anyway, I'm off to bed now, to read all about cigarettes and knowing glances across the bed blocks. For research. Night then x