The Burp and I have discussed on several occasions how squeamish we can be when hearing the details of other people's, er, intimate lives.
So the other night I went out to dinner with my friend Chestnut, and our friend Princess Mary who was visiting from Canberra (leaving a frightened Grumpy at home to fend for himself). Princess Mary has nabbed herself a younger, much younger, Danish boyfriend. She was heading off in a couple of days to be home in time for another friend's baby's christening. To my horror she began describing how pooped she was going to be at the christening because, even though her flight got in at a reasonable hour, after two weeks apart she and CPF* would be up all night making up for lost time.
"So you'll be able to pick me out at the church. I'll be the one with the black bags under my eyes."
"Yeah," said Chestnut, "and sitting on a really soft cushion."
*Well, duh. Crown Prince Frederik of course.
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