Hey, so, if you go for a drive with your left wing mirror pushed in, turns out, it's okay as long as you never turn left. It is odd however that I didn't notice, if we agree that you're supposed to use them, and they're not (as I like to think of them) the cars ears. In my defence, the wing mirror ended up in this state because, thanks to Ginger Beard's experimental, diagonal parking, it was necessary to save its life.
What do you get if you cross a packed train carriage, with a bitter National Rail employee, and a women with Claustrophobia? A really uncomfortable, yet somewhat entertaining journey. I am experiencing some wondrous sights on these good ol' reliable trains. The panicking lady in question did a bit of river dancing between the door and the platform, before deciding to face her fear. She then proceeded to turn white, squeeze her eyes shut and gulp oxygen, whilst at the same time unintentionally hugging a stranger's belly.
Luckily she had the background noise of the blue-shirted train man, who decided it was an apt moment to vent his frustration at those nameless bastards. Firstly, they'd provided him with a toy train this morning, instead of a real one, which explained our suffocating confinement. Then they were making him pay for his uniform because he kept splitting his trousers. He asked us if we knew what time we were supposed to arrive, and which platform. What else could he do, when faced, elbowed, and lovingly squashed by the enemy - forty pissed off, morning breath, would it hurt you to suck on a polo, commuters? He made the right decision. And it's the only reason he is still alive.
Does anyone know how to look after an Orchid? If I can keep this Orchid safe for six months, I'm allowed to have a pet. Unfortunately I have killed/neglected approximately seven other house plants. Any advice would be much appreciated, as I would like to get a dog like Lassie, that can alert friends and family when I have fallen down a well.
My wise colleague, Hayley Crinnion, has put forth the theory that the billboard (you know, that small, justifiable piece of modern art STILL living in Leeds Train Station) is actually a threat to the puppy itself. This is a feasible possibility, that while we sit and ponder the unlikely, arrogant public reason provided for the billboard, a puppy, somewhere, is totally fucked if he makes a mess with the paint again.
I will be composing an email to the artist/establishment in order to complain about its existence, and will keep you updated with my progress.
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