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Thursday, 22 January 2015

In which One doesn't like Wolf Hall...

In a further cruel twist of fate, One is to house the womb of doom tumour for a few more weeks.
'You've got a chest infection and we won't do it' informed the medical type.
'Oh kin Ada' methinks, 'when will it end?'
Not yet, it would appear.
Attempted to appease Oneself by having a mammoth snuggle under a cosy blankie and watch the long awaited Wolf Hall.
The A of the F was, of course, attending to One's every whim and spoon feeding One Beluga and medicinal Bolly.
'This Wolf Hall's a load of bollicks, innit?' Opined he.
'Yeah. Let's go to bed with a hot water bottle and some fish finger sandwiches' offered One.

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