On the way to Perth, so due to time constraints, this afternoons blog post runs thus –

 

Every night my father fills me with dread,

when he sits on the foot of my bed.

Now, I don’t mind that he speaks,

in gibbers and squeaks.

But for seventeen years he’s been dead!

 

 

Click the picture above, who know’s what lurks within?  Moohahahahaha!

 

Love you all,

 

N.

 

 

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