horns of wilmington's cow

By anth

Grump

Always think Greenfinches look like the troubles of the world are on their shoulders.

I've said before, there's something about me, something about my nature or my face or my reaction, that means people throughout my entire life have been only too happy to regularly and often point out my flaws. It's happened to me with so many different people that it has to be something to do with me, and not them. Perhaps it's karma for being told I'm good at work stuff and drawing and going and standing in the Christmas shop queues and all that (there's something in that, almost always on the same day as someone tells me I'm good at something specific, someone else will tell me I'm crap at something else). Maybe I am just that flawed and I don't want to admit it (okay, there might be something in that as well). Maybe I'll go and switch off for an hour on the turbo in the garage then come back in and draw something. Maybe I should have written this as a poem so it sounded less like a late-night whinge.

Nice to see Iain and Mary tonight. And hopefully Iain can lay the blame on me for him being slightly later home after I convinced him (granted, easily) to partake of a whisky as we watched the end of the Edinburgh - Glasgow rugby.

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