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Sunday, 11 January 2015

In which One is a problem...

And so, with One's usual impeccable timing, One has come down with the flu, rendering the twinkle excavation extremely unlikely.
One was in the queue in M and Co in Minehead, clutching a greatly reduced silver grey leopard print woolly pully when One came over all unnecessary.
By the time we got to the Manor One was completely incapacitated and had to be blankied up on the settle.
The A of the F was, quite rightly, concerned for One's wellbeing, as he pointed out that One was being very quiet.
'Every cloud, and all that' says he settling down to watch the football.
'They won't give you a general anaesthetic if you are ill and you have breathing probs' opined he.
'Oh, kin Ada' says One, 'when will it all be over? I've been nothing but problems for you, have I?'
'Pretty much' says he.

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