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???? Wrote:

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> I'm getting quite fond of Quids and don't like it

> when forumites call me by my real name, Sterling


It's a shame he's not as strong as he used to be, like a frail old man now. Shitting the bed every time his markets move.

Myself and Mr Buttons are not on the face books whatsit but we do have a marvellous collection of scrap books. Mine go back to VJ day. As a matter of fact I have just been pasting in some interestin souvenirs from last week at my sister's in Leigh on Sea.
The beaded fly curtain separating the kitchenette from the "hall". The regular schedule for the cleaning of the "nets" in the front rooms. The unstated worry when the first Asian families moved in at the bottom of the crescent. The overheard chat at the bowls club that led to Frank tearing out the pampas grass one Sunday evening.
Frank correcting your relatives when they call where you live Southend. The yearning for the enclosed, warming skies of SE15, for the chat at Sopers, an Ayres pies for Saturday lunch. The lost pleasure of taking a walk along the South Bank - Harry's arm strong around your waist. The low parade of shops on Marine Drive, staffed by shopkeepers that won't meet your eye. The funeral planning leaflet you notice by Frank's bedside, one day.

Still think that he and PetuniaButtons are one and the same.



We really aren't.


I note my last fanny was also on a Friday. The Friday Fanny. I must away, in any case, leaving Frank and Petunia's sister to slide their way to sparsely-attended funerals, within a few months of each other, at Westcliffe Crem.


Then, one day, I like to think a nephew will arrive and collect Petunia's sister's ashes from the Crem, bring them home to London, and on a clear April morning scatter them high into the breeze from the top of One Tree Hill.

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