Morning Is Broken

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Gordon took a sip of his lukewarm tea, his fifth cup of the morning, both in terms of volume of tea and indeed receptacles. The previous, now empty, mugs sat on the pine coffee table (bought second-hand from a charity shop and by far the nicest piece of furniture he owned) in front of him, alongside a trio of plates, the first containing the remnants of a bacon sandwich, a breakfast he hadn’t actually been able to stomach, the second a congealed mess that he knew to be the remains of last night’s chicken chow mein (as per his usual pre-pub Friday night ritual) and the less said about the third the better, he’d obviously picked up something on his way back from the bar but he couldn’t honestly identify it now – a vaguely unpleasant taste of garlic sauce at the back of his throat suggested it may have been a kebab. Surrounding the various  unclean ceramics were several empty beer bottles. Continue reading Morning Is Broken

James Complains About Paw Patrol

I’m rarely up early on a Saturday morning. It is usually the day I allow myself a few extra hours in bed after the ravages of the working week.

But with yesterday being Good Friday and consequently a bank holiday, I found myself well-rested this morning and thus I was up with the lark.

Actually I can’t substantiate that claim. I’ve no idea what time the lark gets up. I don’t know the lark personally.
Continue reading James Complains About Paw Patrol