It's Sunday morning and I haven't posted since last Monday. I'm definitely laggin' with me bloggin'. We don't want a blogbacklog. Not that I've really got much to say. How about some (cough!) poetry?
When the tea is brought at five o'clock
And all the neat curtains are drawn with care
The little black cat with bright green eyes
Is suddenly purring there
( Milk For The Cat by Harold Monro )
For my main moggie, Hero.
That wasn't too painful was it? Next, Shakespearean sonnets...
Endblog 10.Soundtrack: New Day Rising, Husker Du. ( Can't do the umlauts. And that's something I've never said before. )
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