Work has been a bit frustrating recently, whilst at home the constant decoration has been really getting me down as I come to terms with what seems like a touch of mid-life crisis.
Hence I found myself in Russell Square at lunchtime, enjoying the last of the real sunshine for the year, just walking, contemplating upon my life, when I chanced upon a falling leaf from a London Plane, which fluttered past me, the first fall of the autumn.
As the leaf gently descended, lilting upon a zephyr down to the lush grass, I paused, and taking in its rich colour I realised that this simple event, in all its autumnal significance, was presenting to me a poignant allegory for my time of life in some kind of poetic unveiling.
Then, as I gazed up, I was passed by this foxy young student chick in a skimpy, tight top, with her excellent cleavage presented for inspection, a sight that instantly erased every rational thought in my aging head.
What's my name again?
Ding Dong!
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