In the morning, walking along the tightrope which links the bedroom to the bathroom, followed by parachuting down to the terrace for a breakfast of dragon’s eggs and pancakes, we were then happily reading the GoodNewsPaper.
The headlines made us laugh and dream big dreams.
When the door opened a stagecoach was waiting in the driveway.
We took the car instead, pedaling in unison.
Some days are just made for the same old, the familiar and predictable.
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