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I’m having some fun at her expense, yet it is gentle in nature, with the aim of bringing forth a smile, perhaps even a soft laugh, for she knows me now, and my off-centre ways. With others my tongue will cut and scythe away, for I am sharp. Too sharp at times. Inordinately so. I suffer a fool not; time is precious, the century gains speed and I’ll not have a second of it wasted upon boorish buffoons. Not twice anyway.

We lie on top of Keppel Hill, our picnic consumed with relish only moments ago, and now, with our stomachs stuffed to the gills, and our backs to the grassy knoll, we banter and laugh. Badinage caroms back and forth with clear delight; occasionally we tear our gaze from each other to view the wide, vivid blue sky above with its peppering of near pulchritudinous nomads – the clouds. As stunning a display of nimbus as I have ever observed.

The sun plays its rays over our bodies and our hands casually do the same. Lazy arousal with intent. My nose wrinkles at the grass pollen in the air, and I sneeze like some kind of demented hyena, setting off her giggles yet again, to which I add my own with pleasure.

If I remember naught else as I age, I wish to hold today with me, bookmark this page of my life and harbour it close within, for this, this is some manner of effortless happiness on tap for the briefest of spans, a rare and helpless kind, and my cynical self, locked away at present in a tidy cupboard at the back of my mind, whispers slyly that anything this perfect is too good to be true. Mayhap this is the case, if so then I’ll treasure it all the more. But for the moment I must stop this chattering analysis of fun and live it. Love it.

My eyes water with laughter, and I glance up again at the sky, only to see a lofty Steam-Galleon soaring elegantly across the firmament. My smile broadens…. for I too soar in the clouds today.

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