The sun temps the butterflies, from wherever they go on dingy days, to party on the butterfly bush.
No wire worms no tiddly jobs. Potatoes my potatoes, scrubbed boiling on the stove.
The dustbin contravenes public health, it is a positive embarrassment due to one of us slinging, black cat's gift of a dead bird, in the bottom only in wrapped in news paper. I get the bleach, yard broom and rubber gloves unfortunately I have no mask. Then I decorate it and paint I love my bin men on the lid. Where would we be without them?
Bit of that
I think schools should employ these to go in and run classes for our teenagers.
They are a must see.
And just cos I love them a bit more.
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