I fully expect to only get replies from gay men.
But, seriously folks, I do have an obsessional love with sunsets. My drive home from work takes me over a hill and driving directly towards the snoozing sky, which, when the weather conditions are right, is filled with azures and peaches and pinks, and greys. It's like what I imagine life to look like for the characters in Monet's world...
It's just like this in fact:
Whatever has gone wrong with my day, however bored I've felt at work, when the sky looks like that I can't possibly let anything bother me. Seeing those views stretching out to the edges of the sea and making the mingin' city of Portsmouth look like an alluring, twinkling place of wonderment, it makes me feel like anything is possible and I can achieve anything I want to. That I could keep driving and reach the Emerald City and finally meet the wizard who'll sort everything out for me. But then, in the last couple of days I've realised I don't need the wizard. I've got me. I can do all the sorting out I want, when I want to. The wizard isn't the point of the quest, the quest is the point of the quest*. I'm ready for that muthafucking quest now, bring it on bitches.
By the by, I've already been 'top-trumped' on the 'fame' front. One of my blog correspondees once got an ice cream bought for him by Terry Wogan. As far as I'm concerned nothing has, nor ever will, beat that.
*Read all of that by the way
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