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Monday, 31 May 2010

There are more questions than answers ....

How come I never have a coughing fit in a noisy market town, but always in a silent assembly hall/at a funeral/while waiting in a long checkout queue?

How come I never get a stone in my shoe when I'm in a quiet country lane, but always on a busy road so that at least four million people have to look at my bum while I lean on a post and shake out my shoe?

How come it always rains when I don't have an umbrella, but when I bother to take it with me, swapping it from hand to hand, putting it in my bag then finding it makes the bag too heavy, leaving it on bus seats so that I have to  stop the bus driver and rush back to fetch it, the sun comes out and it's like a Caribbean afternoon?

How come I only ever need a stapler when there's only one bent staple left in it?

How come I only ever need the photocopier when it's flashing this message: 'SOMEONE'S ALREADY COCKED THIS ONE UP, SUNSHINE'?

Not that I'm feeling that life is unjust, or anything .....