Wednesday, Dec. 22, 2004 - 12:35 p.m.
The Jennentine Prophesy
Hello Diary,Today I am inhabiting a mostly empty office, where our numbers dwindle as the days go by, making me wonder if I'm an even bigger loser than I'd thought for being the last one working. Then I remember that no, I will not be the last one working because I am skiving on Friday to get a lift to the homeland. Hurrah for that.
So as I was wandering the streets of Kings Cross just now [oh god. be it known that I do not 'work the streets of Kings Cross'] I remembered these prophesies that my friends and I used to write for each other at guide camp, when we were about 12 years old. i.e., old enough to know about willies and sex but young enough to still just titter about them.
My friends, to a mangirl said I would work 'in communication' (hmm, yes, kind of), would have lots of 'midnight gymnastics' (what could this euphemism mean? have no concept thereof these days), would likely not marry my then paramour, G@ry L!neker (yep, right again), but would be married to 'a Next model' - HA HA HA HA HA.
I love it! I had forgotten that the zenith of unattainable male loveliness was, in 1989, a Next male model.
I think I started thinking about this because I was panicking about a Christmas present for my dad and wondering if there was a Next for men nearby and if it would be suitable. Damned if I'd know, I've not been in a Next for donkeys years.