| |
|
Wow.
It's gone much quieter here.
I just poked my head round the living room door to find the fire has gone untended, the sofa smells of wee and has a missing cushion and last October's Living Marxism is yellowing in the sun on the windowsill.
I feel almost sacreligious leaving a post in Conversation right now, like being the first person to leave mucky bootprints on an acre of freshly fallen snow.
Can anybody hear me? ...hear me? ...ear me? ...me? ...e? ... |
|
|
