I'm afraid that last posting was a bit of a ramble, wasn't it?
I have been taken surreal, in the grip of tiredness!
Tomorrow promises to be a practical day; I will excavate the cowboy shirts that lurk in the loft, so the Desperadoes are properly attired for the gig at the Montague Arms.
The cowboy shirts think they are in the Wild West, and may be rather disappointed to discover when they are unpacked that they are actually in cold and rainy north London with no pistol packin' papas (but plenty of nostril-pickin' grandpas).
I haven't even got any cacti any more, because when I was moving house they kept stabbing me with their spines so I abandoned them as a punishment.
No Mexican Bandits
No Cattle (or cats)
No Guns (one water pistol)
No Desert (or desserts)
No Hosses (does a rockin' hoss count?)
I got Beans (baked)
I got Cowboy Boots (2 pairs, one plain, one fancy)
I got Bolo Ties (a handful)
I got a Buckskin Jacket (knackered)
I got a book of Cowboy Songs
I got a Cowgirl Guitar
I got a Cowcar
getting surreal agin!
Time fer some shuteye!