My Diary

I drew several cards from my top pocket – the mast of a small luxury yacht was also sticking out, touching my nose when I bent over to count my toes.  The first card that fell on the table said work so I packed myself up into a briefcase while a hugely oversized arrow penetrated the  house roof.  I spent part of the day standing like a sarsen stone on Salisbury Plain.  The Women’s Institute were on manoeuvres with flashes of gun fire visible under raised skirts.  I got in and then went out again.

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