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Wednesday, 13 July 2016

In which One is still in the Tracy Emin tent of life...

One's findings of the week, thus far, are this, Dear Reader...

The passage of time narrows one's mind and eventually life completely zips one into a one berth tent...

Inside the tent are reading materials:
A copy of the Daily Express and a repeat prescription.

A list of subjects available for discussion: Illness, medication, and any irrelevant information about person or persons unknown to the listener.
for example -
Question - 'Delphine and John get up at 10.00am and they only eat a small apple for breakfast!  What do you think of that!'
Answer - 'I don't.'

Outings to 'the shops' are allowed on an almost daily basis, but only in pursuit of items...

a     Out of season
b     Not available in Britain since 1943


One, as a viewer of Little Britain in days of yore was amused, but nonplussed by the cove who entered the toy shop with such specific requirements for a board game...
'A pirate ship game,' he used to say, 'for ages six to six and a half,' or some such uber-specific instruction.
Such a thing happened to One just yesterday...
On One's third visit back to the car with items various, enquired if there was anything else that Aged P needed that day.
'A Daily Express for the puzzles,' came the reply.
Off One tottered to acquire same...
Upon One's return, One ventured the same question...
'A sheet of wrapping paper for a nine-year old boy,' came the retort.
Not any old sheet of wrapping paper you understand, Dear Reader, but a specific sheet designed for a nine-year old boy.
Off One went in pursuit and failed miserably.
Back at the ve-hicle, One rattled off the question again, and the Admiral, who had come along to give One moral support and to step in should there be any blood-letting, piped up...
'Did you get my Times?'
'No not yet,' hissed an ungrateful One, 'but when I do I'm going to shove it up yer arse!'

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