Tales from the Old Mills

By Oldmills

Nora, Bairn,Ack!,Led..

...Astray by the sheer wonderfulness of this product of the Celtic Tiger.

Smittenkittened by her bellicocious beauty some quarterscoreyears ago, NoRaBid Cat nor dog could raisehisrabies to me and recline her employment, parsing puns of vegetables and curleykale in Marly Park, her sweetpotato personality praising parsnips and peapods, her smile shining shallots and sweetcorn to a sellable gleam, a eyeglint for eggplants, her slappable and wellslapped arse a parody of ripe and fragrant soft fruit, twoforthreeeuro, and thanksverymuch.

Nuff of that.

Wags is home from the Antipodes for a couple of weeks.
We met last night.
Until the day I die, I will be her Second Daddy, to take the tearful call in the small hours of the morning, to tell her how much better she is than her boyfriend thinks she is, to stretch a scrawny shoulder Nor-ways for to cry on...

If my own daughter turns out to be half the woman that this girl is, I will be prouder than Punch, and Judy.

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