And that was for work. That’s all I know.
There were five or six calls, maybe more. They weren’t evenly placed, here and there they were. I had to drive this and that way, but mostly straight. It was going to be a good day. I got up in time. I set my clock for half past, and it was enough. I got going. Gradually at first, slowly. Building, as you do.
The first call was at half past four. She was a do with a who, in Roselands too. By which I mean, it was a young lass and she wasn’t crass. She didn’t have gas. By which I mean, she was in between.
By which, I mean, she was whining, not crying. She wasn’t funny. She had her carrots for tea, but she wasn’t a bunny. Her eyes were fine, though. Oh, how I know? Well I saw them so. She was fine; but her eardrums were so swollen: not that much, but enough, to make her a bit gruff.
She had landed from the plane in Mayne. By which I mean, she had landed in between. In between comfort and pain. She was ok. But could be better, I’d say. So we looked in the way, and saw her drums that way. They needed some attention I’d say. So you do what you do.
I presume she’s better. The plane landed. She got some medicine. And she’s all better, I’d say. Judging by the way she felt yesterday. And that’s good to say, that she’s better.
And that was just last night. When I went out for a drive. And it was quarter past five.
