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Tuesday 22nd December 2015.

The shortest day of the year brought more clods of rain across the Pennines cascading through the crazy mixed streets of the Manchester Basin in true horse shit fashion...yet as one fellow on the street said at least it is not snowing..with a shrug what could i do put sigh and move on to the next dwelling to push through more Christmas cards in abundance into goblin letter boxes..some dwellings become flooded with festive greetings others never a one slips onto the door mat....it is the season when people try to hold a pen in their hands and try to think how to write once more, perhaps with a sip of sherry on the cuff, some oblivious to where they are going..or if the person is even walking the planet they are the most sorrowful ones no return address on the back of the envelope means once more next year they arrive....
Sadly..i myself..have not written a Christmas card in 34 years...each year is the same a must do..yet the rolling moss of working hours makes me flounder and the Christmas cards i have bought are neatly put away until next year perhaps when i retire from this work saddle and tiny red van i could have a stall on the market selling rare Christmas cards..perhaps indeed i am like those whom scribble to the ghosts in the sky...or perhaps which is how i like to feel...if i placed each card that has passed through my hands in a line..John-O-Groats to lands end springs to mind...and time is not my friend during December...
Although i have enjoyed these past four weeks bringing a bit of goodness to the hearts of people..with only one and a half shifts to go weary is the word..and the call from Winnie-The-Poo..to throw a few Poo sticks into the river of life is something i am looking forward to..So Goeth..



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