Corduran freedoms

My new bag came today! It’s totally brilliant. It’s a Brain Bag, from Tom Bihn, and I got a brace of extras with it (which is more than a ‘pile’, and tied together… isn’t it?). I was wondering just now whether it was too big — but no, then I saw the bus coming around the Winterfold Road corner, and had to run, and so I hitched up all the straps, and legged it — and it felt snug and good and secure, and hardly moved an inch as I lept through the traffic. So huzza for Tom Bihn! Here I come, World, with my laptop and all else for wandering-et-recording. Brill-o for leggy freedom.

Egghh. Again, I ask for your reading allowance, with today’s post. I’d gotten home, tired, and wanted a small corner in which to sit and sip a beer. And I was granted such a thing, in the new front room, and a platter of cheese on which to snack, and well, then there was the bus-running moment, and the bus-driver friendliness (and his damnation of a passing motorist to stir things up!), and what can I say but that all is t’riffic with the world? Not much indeed.



Stone flicked through my journal the other day, and couldn’t find himself featuring as greatly as perhaps he’d hoped. And nor will he, the bally footballeroonie! What’ve I to say of he?! Nothing, given the snorting and gufawing that goes on when he reads (or bothers to read) my blog. Ha! Nothing! You hear me?!



(And one last note, before toddling onwards.) The wifi in Kings Square seems much faster than it used to, this evening. Good work, Freo Council! I throw packets at your TCP/IP with fervent abandon, and salute your electromagnetic gusto!


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