Sunday, August 19, 2018

Strange events of Friday the Seventeenth Day of August, 2018 ...

A certain person, known for instruments of percussion, but who would wish to remain anonymous, brought along his bodhran.
Oh, look, he's brought a stand for a guitar as well ...



Then he opened his guitar case ...

It's an air-guitar!

Paul began by dreaming ...

I want a girl to call my own.

Lynda greeted a new morning ...

Cruel cannons roar!

Berry invited us to treat him thus ...

... but love me!

Paul wanted freedom ...

I have tried, in my way ...

Mike related a tale of a notorious trade in human body-parts ...

"This one will make an ideal heart donor!"

Bryan, our resident philosopher-poet and true gentleman, does a lot of thinking ...


His poem enigmatically entitled It generated some discussion.
Bryan's wisdom paraphrases as follows ...
"Reality exists only in the past. After all, the present is ephemeral. In a microsecond it is gone - past. And the future holds no guarantees!"

Lynda serenaded us with some sound agricultural advice of biblical origin ...

Every leaf is borrowed.

Then we wished each other ...

Good night. Good night.

Fortunately Mike, bearing empty guitar case, did remember where he had left his motor car!

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