I walked through a park, bursts of hand-clapping kept exploding behind me. I finally identified a Tourette-ey man bobbing around in a suit, face clenched in concentration, his clapping was interspersed with lamp-post-tapping and tree-kissing.
I made straight for the big fig tree, clipped off a few of it's new sappy leaves and stuffed them down the front of my vest so that the figgy scent could waft around me for the rest of the day.
TEST POST— Linked 10-Minute Delay — Please Ignore
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Ice was still heavy on the water when the hulking Christophe de Margerie
tanker set off on the first journey of the season along the Northern Sea
Route in ...
15 minutes ago
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