"Everyone dies alone."

We are pleased to announce that there is something about home we are looking forward to returning to (except for family, boyfriend, friends blah blah blah) and this is the lack of public displays of affection, European style.

Now, bitter and twisted we may be, but even we can deal with a little bit of lovin'; the operative word here, however, is little. In Europe, with regards to the outdoor passion that is pashing, this word appears to have been lost in translation. Literally everywhere we have been, and everywhere we look we are greeted with the pleasant sights of (wait for it):

petting, fondling, straddling, eating, sucking, nibbling, rubbing, tickling, stroking, licking, grinding and even blatant intercourse in some less than reputable venues (thanks to C for that list).

Now, as previously stated, we don't mind a peck or two. This can even be endearing on certain situations (well, maybe just at weddings). What we have a problem with are (C again:) "the couples who force love into the air"; which, C exclaims passionately: "I am trying to breathe".

Roll on Britain with its loveless air and breathable atmosphere of solitude and hatred. After all, C again proclaims: "everyone dies alone".

I can only apologise for the bitterness of the above, and get the impression from C's input over the last few minutes that C is not, currently, in the mood for lovin'.