Once, I went to the Derby at Epsom.
My betting-partner and I were trying to decide which horse to bet on; we knew nothing at all about racing. A honey-brown earwig walked across the programme we were looking at; it was excreting a yellowish fluid. So we bet on the brown'n'yellow jockey, and our horse won.
On another (very very gossipy) note, I was standing outside the post-office today, ready to post the CDs to the people who'd ordered them; there was a huge queue, and the lady behind me was talking in a very loud voice. She was the sister-in-law of the Canoe Man (been watching the news?). She was telling her friend all about it- how her husband said her didn't blame his brother, it must be the wife's fault, how she'd told her husband 'It takes two to tango'; how the Police had thought the guy was hiding behind their front door because they keep loads of shoes in the hallway and the front door wouldn't open properly when they came round, all sorts of stuff.
'At least we know where to send the Christmas card', she said.
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