Having moved to my third option for seating I can tell you I know have a completely different viewpoint. I think it must have been the drink that made me think in such mundane ways, you know slowing the wits and muddying the senses.
Well I can tell you it’s black coffee for me from now on and no mistake. There’ll be no alcohol in this house this week, I’ll will be putting my thumb down, girding my lunches and stepping out in style on the highway of righteousness, pass the pledge over hear I’ve got a pencil and I’m willing to chew it.
I think that the happy rats of Ruch probably wear clogs. Don’t quote me I’ve not physically seen it to confirm but as soon as I do I’ll be getting the pictures sorted. Leastways there’s something in the undergrowth that’s making an enormous amount of noise.
You can laugh and make with the sensible if you like ‘where would a rat get clogs?’ I hear you ask. ‘It’s a bird flitting about in the branches after the autumn berries’ you may coo.
It’s not a woodpidgeon I can tell you that, if they’re not in Alphonses bag they’ve taken to the allied underground to escape the bombardment, and as for where would a rat get clogs, from the local shop of course. I’ve seen those little clogs on the presentation shelf and they wouldn’t fit me I can tell you.
In fact it’s not that long ago that a slight aquaintance of ours let slip that they had trumpets at the bottom of the garden, the little buggers were marching about creating havoc with the woodwork and making huge pillars where millions could live at any one time. Can you imagine the racket, a voluntary every few minutes of the night must have been ghastly for him. He got the conductor in obviously, thank god for pest control.
Keep that coffee coming Marcel.
Ruby&Ruch 