A woman with the potential to make it big. It is not that she cannot: she simply will not.
The closest anyone has come to being an adopted daughter.

Thursday, May 25, 2017

Towel Day is back!

There is not much to say here, mostly because I have whiled away a year doing no writing, mostly because of the whooshing sounds those deadlines made as they flew by.

Of course, I tried. I tried as hard as Electric Monks on bored horses do on rocky promontories; or perhaps harder.

I admit that I did not sit on a Chesterfield sofa this year; or ever. My only trip to Lord’s was ages back. And it is extremely unlikely that I will ever combine the two.

I tried to acquire a relevant towel this year but could not find any, so I guess I have to do with a regular one; maybe in 2018. I tried, of course.

I tried to solve this. I even tried just potatoes, and at times, unjust potatoes. Nothing worked.

I know this is a matter of gravity, but I whiled away my time thinking about cat-flaps. Mostly cat-flaps.

Of course, I did not hitch the length and breadth of the galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, let alone win through.

But I do know where my towel is.

Have an awesome day.

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