Friday, 18 August 2017

With every fibre of...

my being...
I have to resist picking up wheel hubs of cars found on the highways and byways of this corner of sleepy Kent.
I have a penchant for signs;
only last week I 'lifted' 
a sign...
pointing to the little tucked away church nestling in the hills.
Not content with one sign I happened upon another at the second lane junction... which also found its way home in 
my little car.
Now before you get all uppity, they had been there for weeks so I was sure the guests weren't still driving around lost in the leafy lanes.


I do get my knickers in a twist about houses that advertise a party by hanging balloons on the gate then are too idle to take them in. For weeks after they hang, forlorn, deflated and wrinkly...

This morning my yen to be a bag-lady stirred: just as I was about to go into Waitrose.
There in the litter bin was a copy of ES Magazine which is the 
supplement of the London Evening Standard... a free evening paper given to the good folk of London.
For some reason only known to my inner psyche
I am anyone's for a copy, not 
literally obviously!
Glancing to right and left I carefully removed the banana skin languishing on the top 
and deftly slipped it down my 
left knicker leg... 
Do I need counselling 
I idly wonder?

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