Today whilst at work:
My post-church-black-tea asked me what kind of idiot boy would break my heart
The beautiful and hilarious/Art collector very-very-strong-quick-latte literally slapped me over the head for cutting a date short in favour of cross-stitch (I’m quite sure he was still drunk from his night at assumingly The Peel or The Market).
My boss said that he liked to meet my father if my father has the same character as me and that he would like to tell my father that he should be very proud of me. And if he was my father he would be very proud.
The most ridiculously talented and dashing thread-based artist that I know told me that I was an inspiration for her upcoming exhibtion.
Thank-you world, you’re much too kind to me.