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Sunday 20th August 2017.

There is no sunshine pouring through my window this morning...the word summer should be struck from the English Dictionary...i have worked outside all my working life and cannot recall such a gloom bucket of a summer in over thirty years..its enough to make me think fooking dancing frogs legs no wonder millions of Brits travel for two weeks for an orgy of sunshine and all the rest found in the holiday bucket labelled sunshine sea and sex..each year as i crawl out from winters bite i cannot help but drink on that word summer....i would think i would have learnt by now not to expect one alas i don't perhaps simply fate clogs my mind with summers of the past and the word expect flashes in my mind each ending of spring.....all those boffins with clip boards preaching about global warming many years back..i thought yes bring it on...All this city of Manchester has received is a suitcase full of dogs bollocks raindrops with a small squirt of sunshine which lasts mere moments..even the plants in my garden have had enough they are beginning to whisper those famous words fuck off rain....
At one time melancholy madness used to fill my pockets...now as age creeps ever onwards i look down across my wrinkled stockings shrug and simply think bollocks the ticking clock waits for no one...make do with what ever the heavens throw down on my shoulders..at least the strawberries are ripe..chardonnay sits in the fridge..English Cricket is doing OK....and the female inside me does not really give a monkey about the weather so long as she can pull on a dress....therefore all is well...i just have to sit before this machine scribble more often and fuck the weather....So Goeth...

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bichoose
bichoose

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