Last of the Big Time Drinkers

Rummaging through old floppies to find something to stick drivers on, I found one with a single file on it- a Word document with this text-

There�s a line in an old Wonderstuff song, I think it was Ruby Horse- �The sun shone down like marmalade, and covered us like glue.� I�m seeing just that. The sun�s just cleared the mountains and the light is being gathered by the old Conker tree, turning the leaves golden green [which is another Wonderstuff song, but I won�t go off on that tangent]. What isn�t supercharging chlorophyll escapes as beams made tangible by the light reflecting off dust motes, pollen and other things that are the bane of hayfever sufferers. Then, to top this off and add a little sheen, there�s the fact that my eyes are too apathetic to focus properly, my mind is a fraction of a second behind my body and there�s white noise from my brain as it re-routes its functions round the brain cells I killed last night. Weirdly enough, this hangover on a summer�s morning in the countryside is one of the most beautiful things I�ve ever experienced.


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