Him; Did you get there ok then?
Me; Yeah, I'm here, tired though, can't wait to go back to bed...
Him; Can't sleep when you get home, we've got stuff to do.
Me; Like what?
Him; I've got to do you.
Me; Ah, spontanaity, truly a lost art.
Him; Can't get out of it now, I've put it in my diary.
Me; Your diary? Really? The one that says 'Friday - got up late, snow! ran to train station, was late for work, ate some meat, worked a bit, hate everyone, ate meat, worked a bit more, went home, ate meat, shagged bird, ate meat, sleep.
Him; Did you find my diary?
Me; Sweetheart, I could write your diary every single day.
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