Space, the final straw.

Happily left unbroken.

Before I start, I should mention I've been back on the Sainsburys own brand Scotch.
+ Drinking it is part charitable. Someones lad at Gods waiting room has some kind of illness and is collecting plastic bottle tops. I have a carrier bag full of milk and coke bottle tops. No I don't drink milk and alcohol.
That plastic bottle tops thing better not be a wind up, I've been doing it religeously. To the extent of pickeing them up in the street.

Talking of which (this is going to be a ramble kind of one sided conversation), I resent the postal strike. I've had to go around the local streets myself chucking rubber bands outside peoples house.

+ +If anyone reads this, I hope they appreciate that I actually got out of bed to come write it.
Ya know how it is, if you at all creative. You get an idea, and then spend the rest of the night running it through in your head and editing it. Fall asleep at unGodly O'Clock (Irish pagan version of Old father time?) and wake up with it a faded memory but knackered.

So, back to the point. Ish.
Anyone who has visited my Belgravia (ok Pimlico then) apartment will have an appreciation of the scale of the place. However, tonight I even managed to suprise myself but discovering a tumble dryer I'd forgotten I had. I could have pawned it, had I known.

I'm a hoarder, I hang onto things for sentimental value, future use, or just too lazy to chuck it out.
I have a bus ticket I kept from the time I got a blow job aged 14 on the top deck of an 11 bus, from the hottest 6th former from the girls school nearest ours.
OK I didn't and I don't, it was the PE Mistress in the back of her car. By the end of term we all had a bus ticket. Alright, that isn't true either.
Soooo, I hoard things. Some of us are hoarders and others minimalist.
I visited one chaps new apartment and it was lovely. "When is the moving in day" I asked. "What do you mean, I've been here 3 years"!
"Where's all your stuff"?, "Over there" came the reply pointing at an egg cup or something equally small.

Well, tonight when I couldn't find the bed, it occured to me that I'd been somewhat lax on the domestic chores and laundry was starting to take over the bedroom. I looked at it and sighed, it takes an age washing and drying and then hanging on the radiator because it isn't dry.
Ping, that was me btw not the machine, didn't I buy a tumble dryer once in better times?
A quick hunt and I found it, behind a secret door in the bathroom, under a pile of bus tickets and behind some old Dutch woman called Frank.