Life's good. Bill is fishing somewhere down south, and we lasses get to take up space. This is no small thing. When Bill walks out the front door, it's like a whole tribe goes with him. Bill really is larger than life. He's the sort of bloke that walks into a room before you actually see him. His personal space is acres-big. This would be a bad thing if he still drank a bottle of rum a day and lacked discernment as to whom should be beaten up for insults flung from three people away and so generally just made things easier for himself by collaring any available chap within arm's reach.
However, he was always nice to women, children and dogs. And thankfully, even in his most inebriated state, never confused the three. A menace on the dance floor, however.
Sigh. I do miss him.
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4 comments:
Ha! now you have a readership of 4.
Next, the world.
Dear Quirkie, I always read your blogs. I check your site faster than you can blog. It helps me remember there are other human beings in the world with whom I am connected and that is so important to me.
Heya! You are so nice. I am a nasty wicked slothful little blogger and I don't deserve such a nice reader.
I know. Why don't you start a blog? You, Sweedums, are replete with deep thoughts and silliness, and this is a very good reason to blog. That way, I can comment on yours :)
You are now the second person to tell me that. I believe that one day soon I will. It is possible I will go crazy otherwise!!!! I'll let you know....
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