Other people have Tuesdays with Morrie. I have Mondays with Karen. The first one was for the purposes of catching up on seven years of no-see. It only took five jugs of Pimms to get through the basics, by the end of which I was practically living in the bathroom, such is the inability of my bladder to cope with that much liquid.
So, two weeks in Manly, and what I have got to show for it? A pretty nice tan. Sand in almost everything I own, some bruises from an attempt to learn to surf - not my proudest athletic moment, that one - and no clean or dry knickers because I did a huge load of washing and hung it all out and then it rained. Warmly.
I also did some work for Jessa, where we both went berserk with our red pens and were told we were anal. Given how much we'd let go because of the deadline, we were both a bit surprised by this, but kept on trucking. Because we're troopers. Troopers who drink bourbon in the bath and sing to Icehouse.
Manly Girl Guides. Makes me laugh every time.
Oh, and two references in one week to vajazzling cannot be a good thing. Go on, look it up.