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Monday 18th May 2015.

May...not even warm enough to dance around the May pole in anything but rubber wellies...and a plastic hat singing i am forever blowing bubbles..so much rain has fallen this May i could possibly be living at the bottom of a gold fish bowl...stumbling over a washed up poster proclaiming that May is Indeed masturbation month...i had quite forgot with work crowding my saddle full of hairy catterpillars and therefore must make up for my forgetfullness...before the month is over the hill floundering in the dust compound of historians whom will think such a poster..was a waste of energy, only to concentrate on politics and what panties the lastest super model is wearing...What indeed will they say about this particular month ho-hum....perhaps...
I have to splutter and seek solitude over the next two weekends as thoughts about pulling on my only suit which is so old i cannot remember when i bought it... too attend two scary occasions where i stand in a corner and ask myself is this really me stood here in this suit, would i not rather be in a dress...i am sure it would make interesting conversation and probably out shine the reason why i am stood there in the first place as a guest.. however it is not my day and the word tradition respect wins the day and i shall leave my dress on the hanger....So goeth...

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bichoose
bichoose

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