Dear Ma and Pa: I am well. Hope you are. Tell Brother Walt and Brother Elmer the Marine Corps beats working for old man Minch by a mile. Tell them to join up quick before all of the places are filled. I was restless at first because you get to stay in bed till nearly 6 a.m. But I am getting so I like to sleep late. Tell Walt and Elmer all you do before breakfast is smooth your cot, and shine some things. No hogs to slop, feed to pitch, mash to mix, wood to split, fire to lay. Practically nothing. Men got to shave but it is not so bad, there’s warm water. Breakfast is strong on trimmings like fruit juice, cereal, eggs, bacon, etc., but kind of weak on chops, potatoes, ham, steak, fried eggplant, pie and other regular food, but tell Walt and Elmer you can always sit by the two city boys that live on coffee. Their food, plus yours, holds you until noon when you get fed again. It’s no wonder these city boys can’t walk much. We go on “route marches,” which the platoon sergeant says are long walks to harden us. If he thinks so, it’s not my place to tell him different. A “route march” is about as far as to our mailbox at home. Then the city guys get sore feet and we all ride back in trucks. The sergeant is like a school teacher. He nags a lot. The Captain is like the school board. Majors and colonels just ride around and frown. They don’t bother you none. This next will kill Walt and Elmer with laughing. I keep getting medals for shooting. I don’t know why. The bulls-eye is near as big as a chipmunk head and don’t move, and it ain’t shooting at you like the Higgett boys at home. All you got to do is lie there all comfortable and hit it. You don’t even load your own cartridges. They come in boxes. Then we have what they call hand-to-hand combat training. You get to wrestle with them city boys. I have to be real careful though, they break real easy. It ain’t like fighting with that ole bull at home. I’m about the best they got in this except for that Tug Jordan from over in Silver Lake . I only beat him once. He joined up the same time as me, but I’m only 5’6″ and 130 pounds and he’s 6’8″ and near 300 pounds dry. Be sure to tell Walt and Elmer to hurry and join before other fellers get onto this setup and come stampeding in. Your loving daughter, Alice
FOR SALE, this absolute parcel of shit.... 55 plate Saab 93 diesel.... basically a vectra in a Swedish wig.... has a long MOT, most likely was a bent one, it's done similar mileage to your bird at 133k miles n it's got a big towbar on the back so you can pull the fat bitch out of bed in the morning when she won't make you a brew the selfish cow.... engine and gearbox are good, runs like a smackhead with a stolen sky box n a block of cheese under his arm, and it's still showing taxed so you won't get pulled when your out n about selling Sputnik to kids wearin manbags..... all the lights work as you can see, and it looks like the previous owner washed it EVERYDAY.... with a fucking brick!! No time wasters, serious buyers only. Ideal cheap family car at £695 if you can handle your wife leaving you for a crackhead on a mountain bike n your kids denying you as their father when you drop em off at school in the pile of shit...... part exchange welcome.
OOh hay how you doing .didnt see you there ..listen Im sort of in the middle of summit let me get back to you later well catch up, ok , ok bye.
Not had wabbit for years. Can't get it round these parts. My dad used to keep rabbits for show purposes but of course all those not fit for showing went in the pot and you know what rabbits breed like. Rabbit pie was a family favourite.
@andypandy For rabbit http://www.wildmeat.co.uk/collections/wild-rabbit A few others out there too just search game butcher. Yes I know it off topic
Painting the Church There was a Scottish painter named Smokey MacGregor who was very interested in making a penny where he could, so he often thinned down his paint to make it go a wee bit further. As it happened, he got away with this for some time, but eventually the local church decided to do a big restoration job on the outside of one of their biggest buildings. Smokey put in a bid, and, because his price was so low, he got the job. So he set about erecting the scaffolding and setting up the planks, and buying the paint and, yes, I am sorry to say, thinning it down with turpentine......... Well, Smokey was up on the scaffolding, painting away, the job nearly completed, when suddenly there was a horrendous clap of thunder, the sky opened, and the rain poured down washing the thinned paint from all over the church and knocking Smokey clear off the scaffold to land on the lawn among the gravestones, surrounded by tell-tale puddles of the thinned and useless paint. Smokey was no fool. He knew this was a judgment from the Almighty, so he got down on his knees and cried: "Oh, God, Oh God, forgive me; what should I do?" And from the thunder, a mighty voice spoke. (you're going to love this) "Repaint! Repaint! And thin no more!"
