Our house has French doors between our lounge and our patio.
I don’t know why they’re called French doors.
They don’t open up when you walk towards them.
“I See You”
Apparently these were the first things my parents said to me.
Maybe after “D’aww” or “It’s a girl!”
It would be quite the coincidence if I spent my last days in the
ICU.
Aren’t rhetorical questions fantastic?
Only mermaids should have cockles of their hearts.
Next time I’m going to date a naturist
So that, for once, I can wear the trousers in a relationship.
Toby always dreamt of one day going into space. As a child he’d run around making whoosh noises carrying a toy rocket. As he grew older, the rocket was replaced by a cape but the whoosh noises stayed the same.
He worked hard in school, because only the brightest children became astronauts. He studied and received good grades in maths, physics and chemistry. He wasn’t so good at Geography, but he tried not to mention it. He went to the gym twice a week, to keep in shape, and never maltreated anybody.
That is, until university. He decided to get a degree in physics, but fell into the wrong crowd. It wasn’t his coursemates, it was his gym friends. Most of them experimented with drugs, and those that didn’t take what was offered tended not to come back to their workout sessions.
Toby couldn’t refuse. These people were his best friends. He took one. Then two. Over the coming weeks he’d try more and more of them. Instead of the friendly man people knew him for being, he became quite intimidating and stuck up. He began carrying all of the products around his waist, sort of like Batman does.
Sure, he may have become a douche, but it’s probably the closest he’ll ever get to a steroid belt.
Whenever I have to use a shredder
I’m close to tears.
If you’re trying to write poetry
Let me give you a hand.
The first rule is important:
Your poems don’t have to rhyme.
I do enjoy being British.
We’re always so surprised when Summer is actually hot.
The droning of a fly cuts through the silence like a oar through water, disturbing everything around it. I look up from the papers I had my nose buried at, swatting casually at it with my hand. It’s far too hot to do revision, but revise I must.
The grass tickles my bare skin, but it’s better out here than in the sauna that is my bedroom. The fly is back too, doing its best to disrupt my brain, not that it needs much discouragement to focus on the dynamics in front of it. The algebra twists and melds itself into taunting shapes; a bucket and spade here, an ice cream there… Maybe I should nip down the road to the shop and…
No. Focus. I’ve got five days. Let’s get these equations learned. The sun beats mercilessly down on my back, the sun tan lotion feeling more like cooking oil. I yawn. There’s something about hot weather that makes doing anything but lying down so unappealing. Five days. It may as well be five minutes.
