Cor blimey, it were fair parky this mornin'. It's bad enouigh trying to persuade oneself out of bed at quarter past seven in the morning without one's limbs being frozen off the moment one pokes them out from beneath the duvet.
My copy of
wilwheaton's Dancing Barefoot finally arrived. Apparently I was one of the unfortunate people whose orders
went astray.
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Comments 6
Mind you, going out of the house at 5.30am the other day was another story - I think it was even frosty.
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