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An Irish Love Story

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    An Irish Love Story

    He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself
    > from the bed. Leaning on the wall, he slowly made his way
    > out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort, gripping the
    > railing with both hands, he crawled downstairs.
    >
    > With laboured breath, he leaned against the
    > door-frame, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's
    > agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven, for
    > there, spread out upon the kitchen table were
    > literally hundreds of his favourite scones.
    >
    > Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of love from his
    > devoted Irish wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left
    > this world a happy man?
    >
    > Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself
    > towards the table, landing on his knees in rumpled posture.
    > His aged and withered hand trembled towards a scone at the
    > edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked by his wife
    > with a wooden spoon ......
    > .........
    >
    > .........
    >
    > F**k off' she said, 'they're for the funeral.'
    "Keep me away from the wisdom which does not cry, the philosophy which does not laugh and the greatness which does not bow before children." Kahlil Gibran
    Clean and sober 25th January 2009

    #2
    An Irish Love Story

    :truce:

    I will never cross the Irish.... too skeered! :H
    Okay, WHO put a stop payment on my reality check?

    Winning since October 24th, 2013

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      #3
      An Irish Love Story

      I believe it

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