  I'd just like to say that, having given it a little more rational thought, I may have been a little, shall we say, rash? hasty? thoughtless? in posting "the girls" on here yesterday. So, in a week or so, I shall go back and delete them.
The ones in the blog that is, not the ones on my ribcage. Let me also point out that it was really more about ze brassiere than the actual contents of said brassiere (and who says we Aussies are a rough and uncultured mob? Oh thats right, we do. ) That little white ribbony bow thing that hangs down? I give it one wash (albeit very carefully in one of those meshy lingerie washing bags) on gentle cycle (pictures of underwear riding bikes slowly around the park) and that sucker is going to be fraying. Annoying little bits of stringy nylon crap that catches on everything. Perhaps I should go down to the river and bang it on a rock or something. That's what I picture when I see "hand wash only" written on labels. Which I can only read if I can find my glasses you know.
Which are usually on top of my head. Anyway, the nearest river to me is the Torrens. And that's a bit polluted. There is Brownhill Creek however. And due to the prolific rains we have had here of late I am happy to say is flowing. Like a vengeful uterus. 
