When they were new, full in colour and texture, they were practically my best pants. Later, they became limp and faded. It was like we were married, loafing around on the sofa, carpeted floors, tumbling about on walks here and there. Infirmity? They became increasingly threadbare. Wed go into the garden and decorate the house, but never really went anywhere together. About a year or six months before the end, they had their legs amputated. It seemed to re-invoragerate Ye Olde for a while. We spent time relaxing on the sun lounger, even shared the odd trip to the beach, but it was never the same as when they were at their best. I guess, the funeral will be next bin collection day. I cant bring myself to go. Therell be no beer, no sandwiches. I imagine theyll be interred, before slowly worming their way into another life. God bless you Jeans.
Posted on: Thu, 04 Sep 2014 12:12:37 +0000
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