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After returning late afternoon from a lunch date in Oxford I found the local lads playing football in the close. They know that they get growled at by that miserable old git if they play on my front lawn. One of them, a stunning good-looker who's got everything going for him, retrieved the ball while I was standing by the window. I gave him one of my disapproving schoolmasterly looks which I can still manage after twelve years. He acknowledged it with the sweetest smile possible and a wave of the hand.
Hugs
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I dream of boys with big bulges in their trousers,
Never of girls with big bulges in their blouses.
…and look forward to meeting you in Cóito.
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