Being described as "having anger management issues" genuinely shocked me. But disconnection from reality is nothing new. I'm still surprised by the fat, old bastard I see waddling out of the shower every morning.
A twisted, crazy man spouting green bile from a subterranean lair? No. No. That's not me. Is it? You'd let me know if that's what I'd become. Wouldn't you? Probably not. I wouldn't, if one of my mates went mental.
You'll never guess what I've been doing today. You really won't. I couldn't have guessed it in the days when I had no children and the night was my ox cart.
I've mentioned "War! 1.2". The original, holy as St Peter, manuscript was regularly punctuated by "!!!!!! LOOK IN SEVENTY ROLLING YEARS !!!!". That told me my research was far from done.
"Seventy Rolling Years" is a remarkable book. The author worked in the brewing industry from 1888 to 1958. The last half at Whitbread.
(See Andrew. I can write one complete, sensible paragraph.)
Reading "Seventy Rolling Years". That's what I was doing that you never would have guessed if I didn't say. In case I was being too subtle. The Carlisle State Scheme, in particular. Nevile was part of that.
Beer on the rates. Every workingman's dream.
"War! 1.2" will be delayed for a while. Especially if I go to London in June. BP WW I. That's all I have to say. I won't have to squint at my crappy old photos no more.
A Landlady Complains - What a nice pub, I say. Authentic, cosy and characterful, full of little quirks. ‘Ha!’ says the landlady, bitterly. ‘It’s a dump.’ The sloping bar top is...
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