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Last blog finis..

February 14, 2011

avec l’expression ‘Hardly straight forward’.

Now.. wait for it.. welcome a new one.. being very straight sideways!. Needs a sense of humor this one.. so excuse me and do take an indulgence.. or two.. on this.. the so-called Valentine’s Day. A Monday, as it happens here.. (can’t for the life of me think why I always recall it as a Tuesday event, yet I do).

I’m wearing a body splint. That’s like a leg or arm splint only for the fact that my whole front (legs + torso, not face or feet) and whole back are encasing me into a rigid posture twixt boards of a sort. Resulting in a sideways position. Lying.. down that is to say.. in whatever room is to hand for kindly e-reach carers for moi.

Good sorts, all. But would not do this or explain away the cause for said affliction so managed.

And I, in truth, shall rely upon your considerable wit and powers of understanding to grasp the nature of why this guy cannot bring on his long hoped for meetup and celebration for this V-day.

Yet before I do, allow me present this hope’s significance. Imagine if you will five freshly picked miniature red roses. Set with one a darker duskier hue and perfume center the other four, these ladies in waiting as it were, around which a most ample Elizabethan-like ruff in deep gold – roses of course – is arrayed. Encircling out from this creams and then white roses of a larger petal. The whole show then spiked with a green leaf or two.. and.. oh yes, can’t omit at least one thorn..

For YOU of course.. same mounted front and center.. and whilst a simple single rose may appear more elegant the company of metaphored radio likenesses is to me more fitting. Et Vous, too, I would hope.

Such are the pleasures of one sidedness with one ear to the main chance šŸ™‚

Fine folk these e-reach. { Says he knowing gotta keep in with the mobile..} Yet no patience.. No point telling them again how I can’t sit down for long.. or stand up with any degree of comfort.. or lie on my back.. After all, not their fault that I happen to have something Steinbeck would have been proud of… [entitled as he was to tell it the way it was ].. Not their fault I opted for heavy strain doing a Saturday course on concrete – chemistry thereof if you recall.. after which no amount of paracetamol was gunna do its wonders.. and definitely not their fault that my diet has long sustained me on well-mixed vegies/fruit/meat and thin hard pastry.

Too hard. Harder than concrete if you really wanna know!

Which is why they confessed to not putting up with my further exploits and attendant facial agonies.. not that is to say without I undertake a new management. Gee, do I know what a book feels like between bookends.. [ Shuddup laughing you rotten scoundrels! ]

After which, l’operation. End of facials, they said. But what they don’t know is my recollection of an earlier colleague who said his screech at the surgeon’s intervention marked the beginning of cheeks.. ha-buddy-hahhhhh !!

Wish me luck… better still wish me luckier.. than missing you.

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