Bemoaning my fate as "The Old Girl"

I am writing post good bye drinks at work: I am now officially the person who has worked at that crappy store the longest. Sitting in Te Valley and drinking a Nice Cup of Camomile Tea. Too much feijoa bubbly and thus (!) the requisite vegetarian kebab on the way home. This earns me a high five from Tom at the cafe. Information gleaned:? None, as far as I am aware. That is: either the reader of myself... (I flatter myself with a readership) or of another. No gossip around any workmate. I suspect that no one shares gossip with me.... I tend to pass things on, indiscriminantly. Relationship almost disgracefully peaceful given that I'm updating a diary. The dirtiest my dirty dreams get is ... me holding hands with a romantic boy. Strangely sad that I fantasise about romance and relationship honeymoon periods. I could be the most chronic serial monogamist if I gave it the chance. Unfortunately (or rather, better for me given my tragic luck in the flirtation front) I am completely and utterly Attached, like a big ole baby by the umbilical chord. Must drink tea, check email, and NOT watch BBC World until I fall asleep.