Friday 6 December 2013

Life and Mary Davies.

OK, I’m in the groove now. I just listened to another YouTube track that took me back a bit.

Once upon a time I was seventeen. So was Mary Davies. We were sort of an item, you know? – in the way that 17-year-olds are wont to be. She was from the bad side of the tracks, I was from the good, which probably explains why I believed her when she said she could only see me on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays because she was washing her hair the other nights.

Are you giggling yet?

Eventually, a friend of hers told me the truth of the matter. On Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays she was seeing somebody else, and on Sundays she went out with the biker guys from the local pub. I didn’t see her for about six months after that. (I did, however, wonder when she found the time to wash her hair.)

But then she called me and asked if we could go out again, so we did. We went for a drive and called in at a pub on the way back. She had two vodka and tonics, then fell asleep in the car. I took her home and never saw her again.

The End.

Isn’t life a hoot?

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