Saturday: Nijmegen is a clock-time reality.

Antique clock Gillette & Johnston of Croydon turns us to four chimes and I recall that at eight I was meant to wash beyond sink and step up to shower and sing hurrah as my wiener is cleaner than my mother's tongue. Time there is prior to seven to pamper an essence away and scratch the oils to the sewer with hair and suds never redeemed. What bother Mariken is brought to me and Cupid dances for a malty beverage.

The vein of my blood flowing into this scroll (app) has me happy to be bold and true and behold behaviour beginning this end; beer preserve us - I am not alone even if this bar suggests a vacant stool (Dan Laythorpe should be here still). Who would condemn me to death if I wasn't this way and shrank off this mortal path smiling at a similitude to corps now renounced along his way. Cheers Dan.

And I haven't been to a party in years!