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Tuesday 7th July 2015.

The longest day has passed..the word summer is whispered about...garden furniture is soaked from giant rain drops..slugs are having fun, the BBQ has not been opened and lies with a knee deep dust cover...the Tennis championships played at the bottom of the country are baking in heat i can almost feel it creeping out from the wireless and dripping down my legs as i trundle in my tiny red van..Childhood memories bring back that time, when the house completely stopped working as each ball crossed the net with OOOoooo's and Arrrhhh's...echoing from the tiny black and white television sat in the main room...children were seen and not heard amongst all the fuss fun which climbed from that small box for a fortnight such visions become more vivid when old tennis players are mentioned...and the years cascade away to leave that time bare in the minds thoughts...being an only child the memories are more pronounced and as i think on those summers which seemed endless full of heat shorts t-shirts and playing in the street perhaps now after fifty years they are perhaps rose coloured more than they should be...So Goeth...

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bichoose
bichoose

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