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Sometimes there’s a Wikipedia article about someone that seems obviously written by them or, more likely, one of their staff. It might be tempting to rewrite it to be better and less advertisement-coded, but wait: why not leave it? Leave it and let the record show that they’re a self-promoting tube who can’t even write in an encyclopaedic style.
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Twisted my ankle, for which the blame lies squarely on flint cobbles. But of course you can’t lay anything squarely on flint cobbles, they’re so uneven.
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🎦 Love Lies Bleeding (2024).
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That’s my da moved house. It’s funny how removing all the books and soft furnishings from a room really changes the acoustics.
I have some boring regrets about the state the old place was left in, things that should have been taken to the dump but weren’t, and even (to a lesser extent) a few that were but I wouldn’t have minded keeping. I did some cleaning, but inexplicably didn’t use the vacuum cleaner even though it was one of the last things the removal lads packed.
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On Sunday I faced a choice: wait an hour for a bus, or spend several hours on two buses going the long way home, which of course I chose. There was a variety of weather, and it was disappointing that a three-year-old bus would have leaky windows, but conditions soon improved and my elbow dried out. A gang of posh young holidaymakers were very impressed by the vehicle – “I’ve never seen a table on a bus before”, they clearly didn’t go to Oxford.