“No, I am not drinking that!” Gordon insisted, forcefully pushing Colin’s arm away and turning his head in disgust.
Just a poem about a couple of blokes on a tandem.
There were lots of things that he couldn’t remember any more, no matter how hard he tried.
If the cold stone steps could speak they would tell a tale of generations past; of family; of love; of
“You’re not really thinking of going down there are you”? “Why the hell not, it won’t matter soon! I just