Monday, June the 21st, 2004
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The first stamp in my album was an 1898 badly-perforated 14h maroon rectangle…
Crapwing is a small seaside resort, riddled with dunes and jetties…
The Manufacture Of Toothpaste, by Gervase Pint…
Cataclysmic winds assail Wint through every season…
On my father's twenty first birthday…
I was sitting in an extremely comfortable armchair …
The night sky was splattered with stars …
“Hello!” I called, “I’ve come about the tap!” …
I awoke from uneasy dreams …
A week or so after the young rapscallion …
It could have ended there, of course …
I suppose it was stupid of me …
“Understand,” she said, as we chewed biscuits …