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Wednesday, 19 April 2017

In which One is incontinent...

Oh my giddy aunt...

It's the beginning of the end...

Is it just me, or does everyone dream about not being able to find a toiley boiley when they need a wee when they're asleep?  Is it an age thing?

Anyway, One had one of those very dreams just the other night.  Every lavatory I encountered was either closed, didn't have a door, or was blocked up with unmentionable items various.

Being in a deep sleep, One didn't reach that period of consciousness where One leaps from the truckle bed and stumbles to the smallest room.

When one is young, one never dreams that one's Lilly white flesh will ever be dotted with liver spots, or that one will ever have a crepey neck, or more than a sufficiency of super-floo-us hairs. AND one may titter at the advertisements that intersperse afternoon television. You know the ones, Dear Reader, concerning the inability to pooh and the unwanted dispersal of wee every time one laughs or sneezes.

Well, for One it has come to pass...

One weed One's pyjamas. And One had an overnight guest of the male persuasion.

That's it, Dear Reader, the search for love is hereby over.

I'm getting a cat and be done with it!

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