Saturday, 1 November 2014

I keep looking at an owl

 I was on my way home on the bus like, gummen back from Builth o'er thrid after visiting thab waster Carl enut, when I spotted an owl outside. He/she was desperately trying to keep up the the bus, flappin hess wings in a demented way until he was shrouded by rubbery trees and shaken from my view. When I got home I pulled out my 'Owls of Radnorshire' guide and there he was - this big ole boy callet 'The Cascob Shaker'. I looked at his photo, and it felt like he was looken at me.

I shut the book and went into my old cupboard/pantry out the back to see if I had any booze. The door doesn't fully open so I have to jamb it as far as he'll go, then squeeze myself in sideways, whilst ducking my head below the triangular shelf at the top. It means my leg is at a funny angle but if you get it just right you can get in and out again without rubbing. I've asked the council to sort it out but they arn listenin.

Anyway I foun a bottil of ole Wiggers cider from the Kington Spar and necked that for a bit. The rubbery residue danced on my tongue like Drummonds dandruff, and charged me with special UFO magic. Fortified, I crept back into the living room and was terrified to see the book open on the floor, The Cascob Shaker staren up at me with a look of disgust on his feathery little face. I can't stop looking at him, and I'm getting really over-excited horses Danny Baker triangles levers rubbed down with leaves by the Evancoyd WI stop it

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