Some have suggested that I have too much time on my hands. Not true. I had a small amount, washed my hands without thinking, and now it's too late. Gotta run!
I was born on a crumpet, splashed with tepid tea, suckled with a Guinness and sent to public school in time for lunch. Years later I surfed the Atlantic on the
Queen Mary, wandering aimlessly into First Class between bouts of puking in the cabin. Shuffleboard playing adults clad in starched white blinded me on the sunlit deck by day, and the hum of massive engines on the lower decks lulled me to sleep at night. A week later I was cruising the streets of Midtown Manhattan, hoping for chocolate bars. Between now and then I survived the Midwest, fathered wonderful children, settled into the Northwest with its damp English weather and started a blog. All before and after dinner.
1 comment:
I came to say,
I cannot stay,
I must be goinggggggg.
Groucho
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