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[personal profile] desperance
I'm not sure how many people could address themselves to sorting through their books and discover in the process an unexpected jar of home-pickled walnuts, but number me among them, however few there are.

These are quite the nicest pickled walnuts I ever ate. A few of them may have to go into a beef stew, or possibly a steak-and-kidney pudding, but I might just munch 'em in the meantime. I do like a good pickled walnut, and oh, these are very good indeed.

In other news, today I talked to a nice boy about disconnecting all my media. That'll be broadband, TV and phone in one fell swoop. Weirdly, it's the phone that weirds me out. I may indeed hate the instrument, but this has been my landline number since my very first phone-of-my-own, and I've taken it with me every time I've moved (which is like saying I've not moved very far since I turned independent, just pinged about within the little radius of west Newcastle). It's been my number for nearly thirty years, in other words - and from next month, it won't be. It's a nice number, too, I've always liked it.
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desperance

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