My Grogtoberfest glass mug has cracked. I have had it since I first went to Spring War. It has done sterling service for some years, being my drinking vessel of preference at home.
But it has now gone the way of all flesh glass.
It is
cold in Melbourne. Our next door neighbours have put in an inside toilet because, having lived there for 7
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Thanx for that thought Lorenzo, you put a muddled concept in my brain into succinct words. That has been a bit of a lightbulb moment for me.
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(I, alas, have had far too much reason to think about the problem.)
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