"The old man grunted," he said to himself. He was an old man, and he'd just grunted, and it struck him that that was what old men in stories did, they grunted, or wheezed, or cackled, and looked askance. "The old man grunted." This time he said it aloud. A girl in her mid twenties laughed gaily. He hadn't seen that anyone was near him. "And what
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thank you.
t''t
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+ 33 C, bloody hell. (Outside).
t**t
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While listening to Weather Reoprt's Heavy Weather, natch ("Juggler" 's a beaut!).
So, to unnecessarily quote Paul Maccasir -- 'here today': lotsa wind, little rain, no fkn sunshine wots'o'evah, and rather few Celsius's too.
Yours updatefully,
t**t
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There's a lot of computers in one room so all the music has to be on earphones.
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