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Sunday 15th June 2014

Today in England it is Fathers Day, a contradiction blown in all the four winds swirling around the planet, in their wake scatters so many fallen leaves over the years..fathers will want and not want, bundled up in a camels hump filled with squashed dreams and floundered panties…For myself i sigh more with relief than a field full of troglodytes…..if i could call it a job in simple terms it has been by far the hardest and toughest task on planet earth. There is perhaps a mountain of books telling one all about the living years..there is the Catholic church for whom the bell tolls and there is ones own father to paint the Picture about the rocky road ahead….how have i done myself..ask me when i am a ghost and only young foot prints gather in the sands of time to walk their own beach and watch their own sunsets….So Goeth...  

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bichoose
bichoose

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