Monday, January 16, 2017

Good Omen

Your writer of pulp, with help from distant places and with the assistance of an Afon-Bedd orderly who has a truly horrible mustache, has managed at last to plant our hero firmly at a lunch table for four opposite Saint Chad.

And real time coverage of the outdoors suggests sunshine. Not the kind of sunshine that casts distinct shadows, rather it looks like a sunshine that's making a pathetic effort. Might even be worthwhile going outside to give it an encouraging cheer.

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