Porridge

Sent by my old friend Barry: Baby Bear goes downstairs and sits in his small chair at the table, he looks into his small bowl. It is empty. “Who’s been eating my porridge?” he squeaks. Papa Bear arrives at the…

Today’s Randomness

I’m catching up on email, so I’ll inflict this stuff on you in one big attack. I think the relationships that survive in this world are the ones where two people finish each other’s sentences. Forget drama and torrid sex…

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