Friday 23 September 2005


Looks like my job's going to get even more interesting over the next few months.

Not only has Katrina kicked us in the balls. We now have Rita swinging in, due to hit America at some point tomorrow.

My love runs by like a day in June,
And he makes no friends of sorrows.
He'll tread his galloping rigadoon
In the pathway or the morrows.
He'll live his days where the sunbeams start
Nor could storm or wind uproot him.
My own dear love, he is all my heart
And I wish somebody'd shoot him.

-- Dorothy Parker

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