I don’t know why but lately I’ve been thinking. It’s a strange, almost foreign feeling that leaves me confused to the max. I was thinking about the last time I was in touch with Imelda Sayers. I can’t say I remember much about the conversation but I know we parted on good terms because I helped her out with something:


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12 thoughts on “*you’re”

    1. And then there’s always the times when you leave a comment and as soon as it’s posted, you realize you’re mistake but of course it’s too late to change it and you have to send a second comment, apologizing for your first mistake and then there’s just no sleeping that night at all, at all. Ah life!

        1. It was a nice amicable conversation followed by some casual rib-breaking and then a memorable hospital visit!

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