Dear Diary,
They say 'no news is good news' yet I fear for the worst. Sue hasn't gotten back to me, despite saying she may. I've dogone blown it already I expect: the worst, I may yet be pleasantly surprized. But more pragmatically, I fear for the worst. Her silence speaks volumes, and I know she is well acquainted with my nemesis. That ship hath sailed. Bugger.
On a more positive, lighter note, my old man is organising another trip up north for the five peice Rock 'n Roll band. He has just bought a new guitar for me, not the €piphone 335, 339, Casino, nor Senator he wanted to buy me, no, he has managed to get ahold of one even better, an Emperor! Awesome!
On the Flex!
Maximus.
Post-Script: Okaaaay. So I just spoke to Sue and it seems their's a lot going on. Problems with her ex, I tried to help, it was a long phone conversation, and she wanted to come to my house. I said no. (It's still untidy) so agreed to meet her at hers in an hour. I must get washed, having something to eat, and prepare for a heart to heart.
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