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Thursday, 29 January 2015

In which One is an accident waiting to happen…

me one

That, Dear Reader, would appear to be the crux of the matter…

One has been told, in no uncertain terms, that One requires tumour removal without delay…

One has also been informed that One is ‘too ill’ to have said operation…

The A of the F has stated that One ‘WILL’ be following doctor’s orders and ‘being kind to Oneself and resting’ until One is deemed fit.

BF, the Pinkster, The A of the F et al, are all insistent on One doing the aforementioned.  Even the Aged P of the Pinkster has expressed concern for One’s predicament.

Don’t even waste one minute worrying for One.

One is a resilient old bat and shall prevail.

One has got it covered…

Today One shall be confined to the day bed and eating mainly calves liver and spinach whilst reading poetry.

Going for a kip now…

But not before One records a slight incident that One was involved in last weekend…

One accidentally trapped Oneself in the kitchen of the Underground Lair.

‘How so?’ One hears you chorus, Dear Reader.

Well, it’s like this here…

One generated so much smoke whilst knocking up the supper that One shut the kitchen door to avoid setting off the alarm and having to watch all the octogenarian occupants assembling in the car park for fire drill.  Behind the kitchen door is stored the supersized clothes airer that slammed down across the door and rendered One trapped.

‘Help!  I’m trapped in the kitchen!’ One cried and the A of the F dutifully appeared to rescue One.

‘Fer Feck’s sake what would you have done if I wasn’t here,’ opined the exasperated man.

WHAT INDEED,,,

 

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