I met an old friend today, Mike Stamford.
"I got fat."
"I got shot."
There you go. Fifteen years summed up in six words.
I mentioned needing a flatmate. Maybe he'll come up with something. Mike knows everyone. Haven't got much hope though. Who'd want to share a flat with me? (Rhetorical question. No strange offers, please.)
(Try me next month.)
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