I love ewe
One of our nearest towns is Chard, the birthplace of powered fight and home to the cooked meat factory, whose smells envelop my vegetarian sister's house like cling film wrapped around a cucumber. In the Seventies Chard was reputed to have the highest crime rate for a town of its size, second only to Glasgow. The highest town in Somerset, where the water in the gutters on each side of the street ends up in different places - one goes south to the English Channel and the other turns left and goes to the Bristol Channel. The town is full of Chard Hards, who tend to go sleeveless in the coldest weather to prove their masculinity. And that's just the women. Several people I went to school with ended up being murdered or turned out to be murderers themselves. One went out in a blaze of glory in an armed police siege in a lane high above the town. One of the best bits about Chard these days is Lidl. There are special deals all the time but I'm not surprised there are lots of frozen lobsters and crabs left from their 'luxury' week. Chard people know you can easily get crabs for free.
Breaking news: The woman across the road is parked on the pavement, blocking the dropped kerb. A law unto herself, she works as an artist in the attic while her devoted husband works in the cellar in his photographic darkroom. She is probably a bat, who hangs upside down during the day and goes out at night, while her husband comes out of his silk-lined coffin in the basement to haunt the village after dusk. Although now we've got new bloody street lighting more appropriate for the East End than this forgotten village he would be spotted a mile off. The street lighting is another story.
There are lots of sheep around here and it's only just dawned on me that many of them must have been just been pleasured by the ram, as the ewes have blue dye on their backs. I think the ram's belly is painted so that when a ewe is serviced, the farmer knows the task has been achieved. I am slightly alarmed about those ewes with dye on their heads.
Scooter Boy forgot to put on his alarm clock this morning because unusually for him he was 10 minutes late, narrowly missing Glidoh-Girl (her bike's so smooth she glides) going in the opposite direction.
That's about it
Maddie x
Breaking news: The woman across the road is parked on the pavement, blocking the dropped kerb. A law unto herself, she works as an artist in the attic while her devoted husband works in the cellar in his photographic darkroom. She is probably a bat, who hangs upside down during the day and goes out at night, while her husband comes out of his silk-lined coffin in the basement to haunt the village after dusk. Although now we've got new bloody street lighting more appropriate for the East End than this forgotten village he would be spotted a mile off. The street lighting is another story.
There are lots of sheep around here and it's only just dawned on me that many of them must have been just been pleasured by the ram, as the ewes have blue dye on their backs. I think the ram's belly is painted so that when a ewe is serviced, the farmer knows the task has been achieved. I am slightly alarmed about those ewes with dye on their heads.
Scooter Boy forgot to put on his alarm clock this morning because unusually for him he was 10 minutes late, narrowly missing Glidoh-Girl (her bike's so smooth she glides) going in the opposite direction.
That's about it
Maddie x
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