Angelo by Mark O’Connor

‘Ah, when to the heart of man

Was it ever less than a treason

To go with the drift of things…’ Robert Frost


Daphne Robins decided to end her life immediately. Not in the conventional way with bullets or paracetamol or dangling from a beam. Far too dramatic. It was more of a replacement she was looking for. She’d been drifting. She knew it, and a change was needed. Not a small, measly, January-the-first-gym joining change, that wouldn’t do at all. She needed a profound, wow-your-so-brave-I-never-thought-you-would-could-facebook-status-update-to-all change. She placed her well-thumbed copy of the complete works of Robert Frost onto the speckled granite breakfast bar, but not before placing a soft kiss onto Robert’s sun-faded profile.

‘Thank you, Robert.’

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Week 151 – Face Grating, Sausage Rolls And The Christmas Puddle.

Thanks again guys for all the lovely comments of last week we were all chuffed to bits!

OK, onto this week and we may have an old issue of mine. I will only mention this once. Well except for the notification that we take a break but that will only be a short sentence with two dates.

I have a hair up my arse for Christmas. And I’m making a point by making this point early. The Christmas celebrations are as premature as a horny teenager using a condom before they use a condom!

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