Pebbles

1.One day my Special lady Friend will write in her diary: "And that’s when I started to hate her", and she won’t be referring to my cooking but to the fact that I forced her to walk all the way to Brighton town centre from the marina along the wind-swept beach.

2.She’ll also add "she wouldn’t even let me take the little kiddie train, the cow". I sadistically ignored the yearning in her eyes. We walked. And walked.

3.We browsed shops full of long, flowing garments but bought nothing since none of us want to start out own religion. So we had pie and mash instead and went home on the train.

4.My mother is coming over tonight for a week, and I can’t even start telling you what it means, people of blogland. Perhaps I’ll try, next time. Until then, be well.