I can just remember an old brown-coated man who was the Walton of this stream, who had come over from Newcastle, England, with his son, the latter a stout and hearty man who had lifted an anchor in his day.
The imagination tends to bleaken in adult life, and rigid categories may reduce perceptual sensitivity. The sense of wonder is diminished and gratitude for experience itself may fail.
Needless to say, this whole notion yucked me out and I might have lost it right then and there but Blood was pounding his cane on the floor and waiting for me to join him.
Anyhow, it's obvious that you created this mesage out of pure fantasy since the patties at McDungheap's are almost always dry.
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