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Worth a read….

The Office Inbetweener

My father was born and raised in Jaffna; a small, Tamil town in northern Sri Lanka. And like many Tamils of his generation, he was determined to leave from an early age; not just for a better life but for a safer one too.

He first came to the UK in 1970, armed with his suitcase and £50 in his pocket. And after an initially tricky period adapting to a new culture, a new environment, pretty much a new everything, he landed an assistant teaching role at the University of Bath.

In the years that followed he would obtain his PhD, essentially be forced to return to Sri Lanka to marry my mother (she wasn’t too enthralled about it at the time either), have three boys (of whom I’m the youngest) and take up employment with an American oil firm that saw the family bounce between Sri Lanka, Norway, Thailand…

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Give it a go!

Fiction Favorites

Due to some problem that I have yet to understand; It seems the auto fill feature on WordPress changed my e-mail to my blog name. I think I have it corrected, but my post last Friday http://wp.me/p2Qoij-Wa had an incorrect e-mail included which I did not pick up before being published. The post has been corrected. If you wanted to volunteer and got your message kicked back, here is the correct e-mail:  johnhowell.wave@gmail.com.

For all of you resourceful people who figured it out, I remain truly grateful for your help.

Please accept my apology for any extra work you had to do.

I will be mailing out the schedule and material on the 16th. If there is anything you would like to feature on my post in addition to your blog please let me know.

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‘A bag with a zip but no baffle

Will be colder than a bag with a zip baffle’.

Well that’s me anyway

Always well baffled

Creaking up the stairs

Now bumping into the furniture

Walking into the corner

The Sharp pointy bit of of a day

Not quite sure where things were left.

To seize on to, to catch

To hold on not to let go

Never worked

The draughts still got in

Twisting and turning in the bag

Caught up in lining

Too warm too cold

A quality bag will have no zip so no need of bafflement.

Cozy too

Hell yeah

Always well baffled

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Help find this young girl

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Susie Lindau's Wild Ride

I’ve never been a tattoo girl. My uncles and grandfather had their arms tattooed while serving in the military. From a distance some give the appearance of a horrible wound. On closer inspection, the bloody scar transforms into a huge red rose, an eagle or a cobra. I warned my children not to get them since they’re difficult to remove and they’d look like members of a motorcycle gang.

When I received the call to come back for testing after a routine mammogram, I knew I was in for a Wild Ride. I’ve always faced adversity with a plan. That first day, I came up with the idea of writing the Boob Report. I would never post, “Poor me. I have cancer,” stories. That’s not how I felt and I didn’t want to ruin my humor brand just because I had some major crap to go through.

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This woman is an inspiration for us all!

Susie Lindau's Wild Ride

I want to go outside and play

Do you remember being grounded? You pressed your nose against the window and watched your neighborhood friends play. Time slowed. I’ve been out for seven months. My clock is full of spider webs and the windows need washing.

Looking back, much of it’s a blur. I can’t believe it’s November! I’m so far out of the loop, I’m orbiting another galaxy. Much of my social life revolves around tennis. Being sidelined since April has been isolating. Instead of organizing social events, I’ve focused on my health and writing since my double mastectomy in May. I’ve heard from a few people, but most have been sucked into the vortex of their own fast-paced lives. Mine has rolled along at the speed of a snail.

I’ve counted the weeks. At eight after my last reconstructive surgery, my doctor released me to running and biking. My first ride lasted ten minutes. I…

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Somebody asked to see Ginger Mount Rushmore again – happy to oblige!

Of the gingers, by the gingers, for the gingers

Of the gingers, by the gingers, for the gingers

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Gingers Are Rising!

The Evening Harold

A travelling family which has traipsed around Europe for almost two hundred years is at the centre of yet another child abduction storm today. Police have taken into protective custody ‘a ginger man’, thought to be around 29 years of age and answering to the nickname ‘Harry’.

The family is said to have started out with the frankly unbelievable name of ‘Saxe-Coburg & Gotha’, but has repeatedly changed its name across various national boundaries in order to disguise itself.

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I was at my Sister’s this weekend to help her partner Darren, creosote their garden fence. I don’t like him.  Several years ago he tried to steal my roof.

But how can I refuse little Sis?

The curly Kale worked its magic, so I tucked a Cosmo under me arm and paid a visit to the facilities.

I learned that corduroy is king this year and also how Blandness is now a recognised cognitive disorder.

There was a story about Melanie, an events planner from Balham, had her life saved by her pet cat Snappy. Mel had fallen down the stairs at home and had broken her ankle, tibia, hip, six ribs and neck.

Snappy dialled the emergency services, administered CPR and prepared a poultice using herbs from the garden.

Melanie has made a full recovery thanks to Snappy’s knowledge of herbs.

I am allergic to cats. Bring me out in hives.

The creosoting went well apart from Darren trying to steal his own fence. He has issues.


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