Love actually isn't all around.

I have noticed something appalling.

Out of the people in my troupe of oddballs I am persistently 'The Responsible One', also known as 'Grandma', or even 'Oma' if we are feeling our inner German (oo-er). I supply the condoms, explode at people if they, say, let their sort-of-not-but-still other half go around stealing things from HMV (though after this week's incident I'm feeling more forgiving), I roll my eyes when people go all mushy with each other, and perhaps storm off if I'm having an off day (5 out of 7 days a week).

But then I suppose that when you're perpetually single you tend to err on the side of 'aged' and forget how to act your age until someone shoves ice down your bra and you are forced to fight to the death on a trampoline for the sake of your pride, or lack of it.

Wait, what was I saying?

Ahh yes. I'm getting old. See? Senile dementia, right there.

Maybe that's an overstatement. I'm like a spinster - Bridget Jones without the capacious knickers.

And according to Love Actually and Bridget Jones' Diary, love can only occur inside of London, and as a Northerner, I know this would never work, because there is a North-South language barrier to consider on top of lots of other things, like congestion charges and Prince Charles.

However... I have a plan to conquer this. It is a proven fact that if Person From England goes over to America, they find Person(s) From America and live happily ever after. It's true, it was on Love Actually AND The Holiday, and if that's not solid proof I don't know what is.(And also to a lesser extent, this occurred on Sky Captain And The World Of Tomorrow, but we needn't go there. Ever. No matter how much Jude Law there is.)



So this is my plan. Like Colin Frissell himself said, "American girls would seriously dig me for my cute British accent".

Well, not girls.

No, really.

Ah, fuck it. I'll just go celibate with Susan Boyle.