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Tuesday 11th June 2018.

Tis but a Tuesday...sunshine pushes through the rooms window i sit at this machine half awake half an eye on the ticking clock i begin to think of the future outside wearing my old blue uniform...the Saturday that has just passed was the last time i pulled it on over my wrinkled stockings and rode down the lanes over the hills in the company of the new postman whom has inherited my old trusty van..when i simply opened the door and stepped out for the very last time..i felt nothing but a huge sigh of relief..modern Tecno and other ridges of misbelief being drafted in, the spy in the cab,a delivery track when one feels as if ghost busters are constantly over your shoulder and every second is monitered into a trillion computors has made the modern postman dance with a thousand ants every second of the day there is becoming a time when a a quick smile a few words with the old customers and after all these years there is only one old dear whom writes hand written letters left on my delivery all this is going to be a thing of the past, such new words as data capture and therefore and therefore...tis not for myself anymore being a bit of the old twisted 60's child, locked beneath this word called transvestite, again simply thoughts of the word Bollocks seeps into the corners of my soul...So Goeth.

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bichoose
bichoose

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