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Tuesday, 2 December 2014

In which One is fairly sanguine...

Good Morning world...
The A of the F flew out of the truckle bed at an ungodly hour to minister to his flock of the day, so it's just me and Chris Evans snuggling under the quilt.
It is the best of times. It is the worst of times...
BUT, One is a lucky One, with good friends to gently guide One through whatever happens next, and of course, the A of the F, who is more than a friend.
One's Pollyanna positivity is hanging by the slenderst of threads today, since One has acquired the A's man flu, just to put the tin hat on it.
Obv, One won't be affected to such a grave degree, since One is a girl.
'Don't worry about anything practical,' said he, 'that can all be sorted.'
One has never had a chap do anything much in a practical manner. One has been alone in the world for most stuff.
Little things like a call to say he is on his way home or the sound of his key in the door, or even his huffing and puffing and complaining when he first appears are tiny pieces of Heaven to One.
All One need now is a Christmas Tree and some mistletoe and One's joy will be unbounded.
Well, that, cracking Padstow, winning the lottery, and not having cancer...

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