Spring is sprung, the grass is riz ...

... I wonder where my love life is?

Not that I would have the energy (and I am not convinced my memory would serve me well enough either).

For some odd reason I was pondering the men I find attractive. No idea why - maybe tis just spring and a Sulky's thoughts turn to lurve.... now there's an alarming thought to put you right off your tea.

My ex, to put it mildly, was a twat. A totally useless waste of space and put me completely off relationships for a long time.
I love my independence too much to see me EVER wanting to live with someone again - plus I love having the entire bed to myself!

I have very little self confidence looks wise and the thought of getting buck nekkid with anyone - noooooo thank you matey. There's a limit to how long I can breathe in without passing out.

And then there is the little issue of the bizarre assortment of men I seem to find appealing.

Seriously, I thought it was bad when I went for skinny (nay, scrawny) tall blokes with tattoos and a slightly deranged look about them. But bloody hell, my taste is becoming more eclectic the older I get.

There's the ones I would consider 'Normal To Fancy Because They Are Gorgeous'

                                                                               Ahhh Leroy Jethro Gibbs you silver fox ...

See? Perfectly acceptable taste. Good looking, killer grins, and great telly to. What's not to like?

Then there are Those Who Are Quirkily Wonderful

Such as Rob Brydon - who wouldn't want an Uncle Bryn?

Then it gets a little surreal.

Not many of you will know - or care - that I am a huuuuge Formula 1 fan and never ever miss the Grand Prix even when it means getting up at 6am on a Sunday. I love it, have done for a very long time.

I can't even drive.

Now I know what you are thinking - it's all those superbly fit men in their tight leather getting all hot and sweaty.

Erm. In the case of one young chap sort of, but it's (again) his killer grin that I love. Seb Vettel, bless him - he's 13.

Well, not really. But he's a bairn.

The man I find truly appealing is - go on, have a guess.

A short arse. Skinny. ANCIENT. Dreadful glasses. Even worse taste in floral shirts and too tight jeans. Huge nose. Yes indeedy the rock god of F1 himself, Eddie Jordan. I know I know and I hang my head in shame, I just can't help it.

Eddie Jordan is 103 and has a penchant for busty blondes. He is approximately 4ft 3inches tall and likes to rest his greying head in their cleavage. He is a stroppy, gnomic bloke but yes, I would ;-)

And it's downhill all the way from there.

As my dear chum Rebsy put it, I like a classy poof.

The poof proof?

David Starkey. The man is an utter genius. Another unknown and uninteresting fact about me is my deep love of the British monarchy - not this silly current crowd but those many moons ago. I LOVE my mate Dave's books (he says it's fine for me to call him Dave, truly he does) and he would be top of my imaginary dinner party list. Intelligent, funny, bonkers mad. Mr Starkey you are a star.

And the list goes on:

Mr Slater, you are lovely too. Get your pinny, you've pulled, Then go in the kitchen and cater to my strange dietary needs please, with your mysteriously vanishing upper lip and your unruly hair.

It gets worse, much much worse.

I think it;s a good job I am single and look set to remain that way forever and a day. One day I might inflict some of the most secret and scary lusts of my life on you.

You have been warned .....