darkpipes

The visit to a Glaswegian industrial-size soft play centre was significantly less painful than I had been anticipating, particularly after the lunch-interlude at a Glaswegian retail-park-pub-thing's outdoor playground where there was almost an Incident involving another random child's granny and some sort of polite but firm statement that she should keep her gratey-voiced shouty opinions to herself, which the wingpiglet ably fielded by falling off onto his face and sliding down a wooden thing with bolts sticking out of it just after she started trying to tell me not to head over in his direction in case that exact thing happened.
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