Crazycrone (crazycrone) wrote,

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I am so sick of my fermenting flat, the attempts at junk-clearage,and my immediate neighbourhood, that I took a long people-watching ride on the 295 just to do my shopping at the giant Sainsbury's at the end of the line. They hardly had any 'reduced to clear' stuff, which was a bit of a bummer. Think I may go to the Serpentine later in the week, if my back/legs aren't hurting too much (Ha...Some chance!)
I'm getting really scared, though, because nothing seems to interest me much any more,I'm losing all my sense of humour and passion. That's a good way to die, and despite everything, I realy don't want to.
Listened to a Radio 4 biog of Paul Robeson. Boy, he was somethin' else. I used to work with an older lady whose mother evidently had an affair with him, during one of his stays in the UK.(He was a famous cocksman, in addition to his numerous other talents.)
She was very embarrassed about it, and when the mother died, she burned all her mementoes, letters, etc. I said that was mad, that stuff had historical value. 'No, it's just The Past' she said. Silly old biddy.
That Voice makes me fill up every time, no matter what ol' stuff he's singing. What a miraculous instrument...

BTW,gardeners, there's a very large, impressive,dark-skinned tomato called 'the Paul Robeson'...

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