googles, the worst thing about drinking. Never forget that the night with anyone in your relaxed state will come back and bite u.
U can do it if u want to...mind over matter and all that. Don't mind me, it doesn't matter.
Matter in the ear is often a cause of deafness in Labradors, I believe. And I usually believe what I'm told about Labradors.
Labradors are some of the most beautiful creatures that have ever existed, especially the black ones. They seem so handsome and intelligent that I want to engage them in conversation.
Mater Dolorosa used to be a very common theme on Renaissance paintings. As well as "Via".
Conversation with people who are too slow to post is quite difficult, especially if they are in foreign countries. Is it also too late to wish them a Merry Festive Season?
Season greetings are welcome. And reciprocated too.
Too, too solid flesh....flab, to some. Crinkly Bottom.
Too little of your Santa Hat is visible, Francis. I like to see the white bobble.
bobble thumpers are generally white, but not exclusively
Exclusively listing homes of the wealthy, tends to make my blood boil. Then again, if truth be known, I find many things to be vexing.
Vexings and dog foxes are being hunted again here, full tilt, by the unspeakables in pink. The police are disinclined to stop it, it seems. Me, I have changed my views on this, and think the hunting ban law is wrong.
Wrong as rain is a comment I have heard many times when people do not want to hear all the views available. Mercifully it is not the sort of thing I would say myself.
Myself, a word I try to avoid. Phrases are funny, she'll be right as rain is common here meaning everything will turn out fine.
Turn out fine is a phrase forever associated in the minds of Brits of a certain age with George Formby. Formby is a place near Liverpool. Liverpool won the European Cup last year.
Years are the matter sweet dreams are made of (Annie Lennox). I've some to make yet.
Yet you have plenty of years, Francis. Surely there must have been some dreams in amongst them, somewhere.
Somewhere, out there, someone remembers me.
I am Ragnell and I am sixteen hundred years old.
Old Spice, remember that? We used to splash it about in the 1960s, especially after Christmas when you could reckon on getting about three bottles.
Bottles of Old Spice - yuk! I remember turning down a man desperate to lose his virginity because he had doused himself with Old Spice, thus making him Persona Non Grata.
