Do excuse the inane nature of the last two posts. It’s what
happens if I have alcohol before
dinner. Future libations of my precious port will be taken as dessert.
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Television is a mirror that reflects the culture which
produces it, and the programmes people choose to watch are those which reflect
the areas they identify with.
Tonight has been the first Christmas Eve in all my life when
there was nothing on the TV I wanted to watch. That says it all, no doubt, and
maybe explains why I’ve felt the most urgent need to have somebody here to talk
to. That’s uncharacteristic of me at Christmas.
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I just had a small piece of the Christmas cake Mrs Next Door
baked for me, and that’s another reason for wanting somebody here. It’s very
nice, but it’s big. I think I might still be eating it in June if I don’t get
help.
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I still don’t know why the Lady Lynette doubts Sir Gareth’s
prowess. I wasn’t in the mood for Tennyson after all.
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The local weather forecast for tonight was ‘clear skies,
mild and dry.’ How I managed to be constantly assailed by a stream of falling
water throughout the duration of my walk shall, therefore, remain a mystery.
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