itsmeagain

A man named Ove. It's on my DNF pile. Destination charity shop. Just didn't like it.

fall headlong into a gigantic cat bed , with Plums and Mimi scattering to the wind like confetti on a London February afternoon. 'Hahahahaha..oh my God Johnny dariling', cried two women in unison, followed by a mad scramble to see if I was hurt by an exceptionally soft landing. ' So..how are you?', asked Debbie. ' Your dad in law is doing...

rushed towards me, arms embracing me hard. 'Oh such memories..theatre, walks by the Thames, 🍄 mushroom vindaloo, late night..... ' I rushed out so fast that there was no time for any more proselytising, memories or made up....

man of no moral compass, loads of dosh, fake principles, a sweat soaked brow, fetid breath....

All the Things I never told you is well worth a read. I read it a few weeks ago. Life in a Chinese American household. It's good.

Sweet Bean Paste by Durian Sukegawa. Japanese kawaii classic. Kawaii means cute and very appealing. A seller of sweet bean dessert dorayaki, is beset by problems running his shop. An old lady comes to his aid, with a surprising outcome.Recommended.

This Green and Pleasant Land by Ayisha Malik. A small English village ( near Birmingham but also, near the sea..?.. 😃), is stunned by the Asian guy, Bilal, suddenly wanting to build a mosque near the church. Some heartwarming moments in a comedy story.

in the end, agreed affably. She will meet nurse Snoezelem, and I'll attend to the kitties. We, no doubt will, ahem, appreciate nurse's input, and ensure daddy doesn't say...

she's coming to see him. I just

all bouncing below this

, au naturelle, as it were, or would be in la France...the well-being and health of the aforementioned Major, plus the rights I perceive as belonging to the most esteemed, most learned, most excellently accomplished, daughter of the Major..I am going to phone nurse Snoezelem, a relaxation specialist at Guys..she'll ensure...' A shock of alarm went through me..Debbie Snoezelem was a nurse I once went to theatre with to see a play. I professed a romantic interest , over mushroom Madras in Ahmed's cafe, Brixton. She laughed so....

A man named Ove by Fredrik Backman. is my current book. Disturbing by his callousness so far to cats as well as dogs. Offers nothing to the story and makes me dislike Ove.

of red, blue, ochre

'I am Dr Philip Mypockets..and before you state the obvious..hahaha bloody ha....no I am not just after money for myself..it's for my wife and kids too..my dog..my cats..every..' 'Dr , is daddy well?', asked Rosie, 'only he's behaving in a rather odd manner...'

said a bloke with

a consultant...Dr Pillvendor is OK...only problem is , he's HIS drinking buddy from decades ago..when I was young they used to spend hours playing rummy and solitaire, while I played in our garden.....I wonder if Dr Diaz -Epam is available..? I'll ring the .....' I had already set the ball rolling and within 3 hours, Dr Phil Mypockets, 39, a consultant from Handwich, rolled up, determined....

in blue, azure, lime

the cellar, inserted a long, bony key, and led us both into a dingy cellar. 'Oh..how spiffing...here you both are at last...nothing like excellent timekeeping, what what...now I am just watching a film about the ..errrr..the advent of modern opera on British TV screens..' A TV blared out old music listlessly in the corner of the badly lit cellar. By now convinced daddy is mad, Rosie and I went upstairs and brought daddy a nice cup of hot strong tea. ' Well how utterly spiffing...have you met...

Wow. Ten years until thread bumped. I hope you come back Jackie it's a nice board.

I..wnt..2 uze ..text spk...

went over, but my lock picking skills failed me. In the end, Rosie shouted 'this ..is police officer Makebelieve. Open the door please.' Ever subservient, the old lady opened the door. 'Officer Bakemyleaf I wasn't expecting you til Tuesday otherwise I'd have baked a cake.' 'Is daddy OK..?' Muffled groans coming from the cellar door meant someone was either in pain..or something. 'Who goes there?', I demanded. My ear pressed to the (locked ] cellar door, I distinctly heard cries of 'more..more' and Rosie opined ' he must be listening to a play..anime or comi drama..' ' In the cellar?', I asked. 'Anyway he's busy..I am Margaret Twiddlepass by the w@y', declared Mrs Twiddlepass,

exterior, all shining glass

window. An elderly lady, sprightly and nimble of foot, was rearranging ornaments on the sideboard. Rosie went to the door. No reply. It got to the point where Rosie knocked on the window and the old woman blithely waved at her , then turned to her cleaning, duster in hand, blue apron on. 'Where's daddy?

green and custard colours

her very own dearest Dingle, who greeted mummy fondly. 'That..is our Dingle', cried Rosie, passion ignited by the audacity of Miss Horlicks. 'I definitely and do hereby; categorically assert this kitty is my own, name of Rombald..here Rommy..chicken leg..here', at which the kitty grabbed the greasy fried bird limb and ate with gusto,