This pen was found in Melbourne, in a letterbox by Martin. He picked it up and took it inside because I posted it to him. This is not precisely how the experiment is supposed to work but its a start.
In 1986 I acquired the pen from my father after he got an exciting new shiny white one, with a tiny clock set into the top of it so you could just glance down and immediately see the time. I thought that a pen-on-a-rope was the height of practical yet stylish sophistication. My fear is that so did my father.
In a shock announcement my mother told me that last night she broke her foot, doing a handstand.
Comments
I've always found your mum more than happy to use fuck as a term, but when your brother called someone a "fucking cunt" she asserted very quickly and sternly that he should NOT use female genitalia in a derogative way. Your mum, as always, is an interesting woman.
Sorry. You said "Handstand" and that was all I could think of.
Hope your mom's OK.
My confession is that I am terribly pleased that my mother has done something as odd as breaking a foot doing a handstand. Yoga is not meant to be a contact sport.