brink of disaster

it rained last week loads and loads and loads. buckets. we were giggling like idiots eating ice cream soaked through ooooohing and ahhhhing at the duck pond in regents park wandering if it really was nice weather for ducks and getting wetter and wetter and not being able to think of another place we'd rather be dripping than just there with the little waterfall and the ducks and all. as long as the lightening didn't get us and it didn't so that was alright.

home all squelchy and some clever clogs had left the windows open. okay i'd left the windows open and it was just the sort of rain that bounces in in huge dollops and turns your bed into a much less comfy and inviting spot than it should've been and your piles of 45s into things that really don't think that having paper covers was quite the bright idea they'd always thought it was and that if they'd wanted a wash they'd bloomin' well've asked for one. and with warmer water at that. so they all had to get stripped and naked and dried off tenderly their poor sodden sleeves dripping and pathetic not sure at all if they'd ever see little chunks of black plastic ever again.

and now all but about twenty of the brave little soldiers are back snug and smart if a bit crinkled and curled at the edges. and washed. and there'll be brand new threads on the way for the worst hit too don't you worry sweethearts.

so let's let the little lovelies do what they do best


lamont dozier - why can't we be lovers




and a little bonus


lesley gore - brink of disaster


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