Right - lets slow things down.
I was a bit wound up on Saturday night for the fact that everyone who only knew me loosely seemed to only remember me from the fact that I'd:
a) Fell in a pond
b) Said libellous things about some mysterious third party's mother, and said party's involvement therein.
c) Got drunk and come on to someone they know.
This is not undeserved. Undoubtedly, all of the above had happened, but the vast majority was seven or more years ago, and I feel there should be some rule against dragging this sort of thing up from a person's past. aving said that, my mother still reminds me about the time I broke the glass top of the coffee table, and that's nearly 25 years ago now...
Fucking night buses! The 77 goes straight to my house. Why shouldn't the N77? Who thought up the idea of having a bus 77a, and having the nigth bus follow the 77a route? Why isn't it the N77a? It took me more than two hours to get home from Vauxhall. I could have walked it in that, saved 80p and got some exercise! Still, I did get some good views of Surbiton, famous for 'The Good Life'. And I won't do it again. At least I had the extra day to recover this weekend.
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There is also a walnut tree that was defoliated by alcoholic vomit. Although stunted it grows still in Croxton Kerrial.
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