[Telstar lolling on the falling-apart armchair in the front room. He’s lying on a tattered cushion and Humuhumu’s purple mermaid cuddly toy.]
Oh, and I finished off the evening by doing the ironing. I loathe ironing. It is normally the bloke’s Sunday evening chore, but obviously he’s not here right now so I have to do it. This day can be immediately consigned to the forgottenest dustbin of the unswept corners of distant memory.
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