#well its with this girl i met over the summer from hampshire

[kendricksendrick]

2ND DATE ALERT 🚨

FUCK IM SO EXCited for our date on friday i miss her and were ice skating which means lots of contact ;)))))) my hands are ready and my brain isnt about to stop imagining how fun and amazing this date could be aw i love my life im actually thrivin !! Like imagine us on the ice skrrting sround holding hands, me like ooh teach me to skate backwards and her hands on my waist pushing mee, her doing a fun little trick bc she actually skates then coming abck to me and i hug her or she hugs me from behind snd we try to skate and awwww fuck thisnisngonna be sososo good

[spiltscribbles]

omg hi i don't know if i was able to send my request to you cos my wifi sucks but could you write "things you said while I cried in your arms" and/or "things you said when you thought I was asleep" for alex and henry? :) loved your last one so much!!

~Notes: I’m so sorry I never posted this here my love🥺 But I hope you enjoy this!!!  A REBLOG IS WORTH A thouSANd STARS!

.-

Things You Said  |  Prompts Closed

.-

When Henry was being brought up— back before his father’s abrupt death and before he understood the sadness in his mother’s eyes and before the very act of attending family dinners had begun to feel like crossing into enemy territory— the Fox Mountchristen Windsors would spend their summers in the family estate, Mertylewood, in northern Hampshire. Back then Henry had thunk the manner there was a Neverland of sorts, otherworldly and magical and totally untouched by the underhanded dealings and suffocating sophistication required by the life of a royal.

Mertylewood was wide and sweeping, with boundless rooms with air that always smelt like a cocktail of  hickory and bonfires and the gossamer his mother had always favored. It was surrounded  by green pastures and flower meadows for miles, divorced completely from  any of the uneasiness back home, and Henry had always relished in the anonymity of it all. A respite from a life composed of expectations, doused in the ever appraising public eye,  and strung together by the looming threat  of the responsibility to the family name.  It was the closest thing to home he’s ever known.

Mertylewood was the place where his mother taught him how to knit, their hands folded into one another’s and her long arms encircling his narrow frame. It was where Phillip stopped being such a god forsaken wanker all the god damn time and taught him how to aim while shooting with his bow and arrows. It’s where Beatrice looked lightest, most carefree, where she forgot about the judgmental glances by the gaggle of tube sock wearing, nasally sounding girls she claims are her friends. It was where she and Henry would stay up all night long listening to her favorite records, and painting their nails ridiculous colors and laughing for absolutely no reason at all. But most importantly, Mertylewood was the one place where none of the cameras or tabloids  or reporters got even a slice of their family, including  Henry’s father, his hero. His father who always told Henry that while Arthur might’ve been in the movie business, Henry was the brightest star of them all. His father who loved them all so thoroughly that Henry could never forget it, even when the shine to his smile or precise shade of blue to his eyes began to fade. His father who spent the afternoons in Mertylewood with Henry riding their horses and chasing the sunlight. Afternoons where Henry felt like time would never end.

Their favorite spot to stop and rest  was a tiny alcove on the cusp of the property, right where the trees met the mouth of the river, and where the sunlight refracted against the tree tops and sod  to make them look like they were ablaze. Henry had thought that it was something magical, something that could never be replicated. He knows now, a decade and a half removed, that he was wrong. He sees the same blaze in Alex Claremont Diaz’s chestnut eyes whenever he’s determined, excited for a challenge even if it’s something as stupid as a staring contest that he refuses for Henry to win. He thinks Alex is the personification of that wonderment Henry had once  felt as a naive boy, and is blown away by him all over again.

“Oy! I saw that!” Alex suddenly crows, leaping up from his seat on their sofa in the Brownstone Henry had bought to start their lives together, topping it off with some ridiculous dance from some ridiculous app that in all seriousness Alex shouldn’t even have considering that it was created  by a hostile government literally spying on it’s users. “You blinked Henryson! I win!”

“I did not do anything of the sort!” Henry reproves with no real heat, too busy trying not to gaze  longingly at Alex’s swinging hips in those sweatpants.

God it’s so fucking unfair that his boyfriend is so hot, and even more unfair that Henry is so God damn weak for him.

“Ah c’mon sour patch,” Alex pretends to  croon, beginning to pepper sloppy kisses down the column of Henry’s neck, unwittingly making it so Henry arches up towards him. “I know it’s not really part of you royals’ MO, but a deal is a deal.”

“Says the first son of a nation which rebelled over some taxes,” Henry scoffs, can’t help the snicker that bubbles out or the dazed way he feels over the gleam in Alex’s eyes.

“Spare me babe, you love it when I’m a rebel,” Alex goads, far too cheeky and far too endearing all at once. He’s a living contradiction that Henry would spend an eon trying to figure out, but for now, Henry momentarily loses all thought when Alex, the sneak,  slips a sly hand into his shirt, and swipes his fingers against bare skin— a whisper, a promise for something more.

Henry has fallen for a bastard, God save the queen.

“I promise I’ll make it worth your trouble,” Alex pretends to  croon, presses an open mouth kiss to Henry’s own. In turn, henry only responds by swinging his head back and willing himself not to get all heated like he were some fucking schoolboy with his first crush over being a fully fledged adult lounging around in his home with his fucking fiance of all people. His annoying ass, smug as all get out fiance, but his fiancé all the same.

“I took’r out to shit last time!” Henry grouses, greedily pulls Alex back closer when he starts to detach himself.

“I seem to remember that you offered last time,” Alex says with a pointed hiking to his dark brow, dips down to trade another snog like he couldn’t help it, as if he felt a fraction for what Henry felt for him. “And then you lost this time around, so.”

“I’m not use to all this manual labor while i’m in America,” Henry tries for broke,  immediately regrets the quip when he sees the way it makes Alex’s entire countenance go smug and his button nose turn up in such a shrewd fashion that it inspires a whole slew of maddening emotions to chorus within him, ninety percent of which being that he’d really like to get Alex naked. Nine percent wanting to kiss him so hard that it falls off, and the remaining one percent being a mental note to text June about some face masks for him to get rid of the blackheads speckled around  there.

“Shut it Alexander,” Henry opts to  say, faux aggrieved as he slips out of his embrace and picks up Eleanor’s leash. “I’ll take her out if you just promise not to speak out loud any of the various innuendos you’ve surely devised in that cryptic place you call a brain.”

“Rude.” Alex sniffs.

“I reckon that’s a deal?” Henry presses.

“You run a hard bargain,” Alex nods, unflinching and far too  serious. Truly,  Henry must be completely off his rocker considering that he’s not only helplessly in love with this boy, but he’s been lost on him since before he could remember. Sometimes his chest feels like it’s going to burst with the love he feels for him, knows that he can be shit at showing it, quieter than Alex’s grand gestures and loud proclamations, but Alex knows. Alex knows how the love Henry holds for him runs deeper than all the oceans, and more expansive than this galaxy. He knows that Henry considers him his person, that what he feels for Alex is unparalleled by any other, insurmountable in its daunting expanse but what keepsHenry grounded nonetheless. And that’s the most important part out of all of this.

“I’ll make you some tea for when you guys get back,” Alex offers, grin a supernova that Henry had once been terrified to burn against.

“If I end up dead in a gutter and the local news reports that I was a decent man, you promise to get me one of the nicer candles for my wake, won’t you? The one’s with a wooden wick?” Henry asks, only partly kidding.

“Don’t be silly babe,” Alex laughs, mock magnanimous. “With those cheekbones? You’d never end up on local news, primetime would be fools not to plaster that pretty face all over!”

Henry frowns before pecking a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“I’m so glad I’ve got such a strong support system at home Alexander.”

“You know it baby.”

.-

When Henry had been six and Beatrice a fresh ten year’s old their parents had taken them to see a peculiar show on Westend which featured odd musical numbers, a Mary Poppins like nanny, and a set of twins whom were able to read one another’s minds. Henry was so very confused by the whole ordeal, but Beatrice was downright ebullient over it. She had spent that entire spring trying to train  them to learn how to do the very same. Predictably, it was a spring full of scraped knees and random bruises and a twisted ankle. But sometimes, once in a blue moon, their connection is so clairvoyant that Henry privately thinks that somehow Beatrice’s persistence had somehow forged the bond out of sheer force of will.

Exhibit A, while Henry walks down the brisk streets of the city— or well, less walking and more being dragged by the ninety pound Labrador he and Alex had adopted nearly a year ago now— he feels his phone buzz, and when he opens it he finds a message from Beatrice. Just a short phrase coupled with a photograph that punches the air right out of him.

B: Sometimes I miss it

The attachment is a picture of the five of them, Henry and Beatrice with Phillip and their parents, on Mertylewood’s veranda. The photograph was taken on a day where the light shimmered, making it so Henry and their mother’s golden hair shone right through. Henry and his siblings were in matching trousers and tops, while his parents were caught mid laugh. It looked like what you’d see plastered all over the trashy magazine covers that were obsessed with their family to a morbid degree.

Henry remembers the precise moment the photograph was taken. Remembers how his father spent the better part of an hour trying to figure out the camera settings so that it would take an automatic shot. Remembers Phillip and Beatrice bickering about a butterfly she had caught and he had let go free. Henry remembers his mother carding a ginger hand through his tousled hair, the both of them always having been more reserved than the others and sharing the trait like a lifeline in the chaos of it all. Henry remembers how after they had finally gotten a good collection for their grandmother to sift through in the midst of deciding which would make it on that year’s Christmas collage for the paper, Arthur had tossed Henry on his shoulder, and slung an arm around Catherine’s hip and beckoned the two oldest along for them to go out for sundaes and eat them by the peer.

It’s one of the last truly happy memories Henry has before his father’s diagnosis, a snapshot of resplendence that would never last.

He isn’t sure how long he’s been staring down at his phone, doesn’t notice that time had passed until he finally feels the salty droplets cascading down and splashing against the screen. And shit, it’s been over an hour since he’s left. It was only meant to be a walk around the block for Eleanor to stretch out her legs before bed. Damn it, Alex is probably worried sick.

With a shuttering breath, Henry slowly shuts off his phone, looks up to find that he recognizes the apartment complex they’ve stumbled in front of, miraculously only five minutes away from his and Alex’s place.

“Thank Jesus,” Henry mutters before softly tugging Eleanor away from a hydrant and making the trek back home, stomach twisted up in knots over how Alex must feel.

His suspicions are confirmed when the pair of them make it back home and are greeted by the sight of a peeved off looking  Alex, only clad in his pajama bottoms and a frown.

“You could’ve called,” he says, bends down to ruffle a hand into an excited Eleanor’s fur.

“I know.” Henry says, utterly apologetic.

“Dude I thought you really were gonna end up needing that fucking candle,” Alex tells him.

“I— I’m sorry.”

Henry’s not sure if it was the stutter he let out just then, or if he finally had gotten close enough for Alex to spot the wetness tracing down his cheeks, but almost immediately Alex’s expression goes stunned, then confused, followed by angry until it lands on something painfully contrite.

“Baby,” he says in a hush, and the open way that word comes out of him— pleading and hurt and wanting all at once— is enough for a new round of tears to flood Henry’s eyes and for his body to begin trembling while his heart  lodges up into his rapidly shutting throat.

Henry thanks his every star that he’s got Alex. That he has someone he can trust so implicitly, so thoroughly that he isn’t afraid when his brain shuts off and he just falls into his fiancé’s embrace, plunging his face into the juncture of Alex’s head and shoulder and just sobs, let’s the sadness just swallow him whole and lets himself remember his father and remember his family and remember when everything had been so effortless.

Somehow, seamlessly, Alex carts him and their pup indoors, helps Henry shed himself of his jacket and shoes before pressing him down onto their bed, and wraps him up into his favorite blanket. Henry absently knows that when Alex leaves him to his solitude it’s because he has to make sure Eleanor is taken care of and has to shut down everything around the house, but that doesn’t stop Henry’s  yearning for him, nor does it stop him for feeling so painstakingly alone.

When Alex comes back it’s with a glass of water, and a bowl of fruit, and a cup of hot coco because he knows that’s what Beatrice makes him whenever Henry is feeling especially sad. Henry wonders if Alex knows it’s an old tradition started by their father whenever their mother had gotten the same way. He’d like to tell him, but feels so very tired that he can’t fathom moving his lips to form around the words, resolves to explain it another day.

“You’re back,” Henry says, hates how desperate he sounds, wishes he weren’t so very inept.

“I love you,” Alex answers, his smile still so fucking bright and his hands so soft as he climbs into bed with him, props Henry’s head on his chest and kisses the line where his hair begins.

Henry starts to cry all over again, and Alex only repeats the affirmation, moves to telling him funny stories of when he and June were younger when that doesn’t work, and then starts to rant about his hellish constitutional law professor because he knows that Henry wants nothing more than a distraction.

Tomorrow Henry will show him the photograph, and Alex will understand  because he knows Mertylewood, hell he’s spent a handful of weeks over there. Then Henry will tell him more stories in exchange for the ones Alex had given him tonight. Then Henry will explain the hot chocolate thing and Alex will listen and laugh and nod and kiss Henry in all the right parts. And Henry will just fall in love with him all over again. Tomorrow Alex will ask if they could have their wedding in Mertylewood because he wants Henry to be reminded of that happiness always, and also because he thinks it’ll act as some sort of tribute to Arthur. Henry won’t say yes right away but he’ll think it, and it will be better, because Alex always makes it better. But for now it doesn’t have to be better, and Henry is so thankful he understands that.

“I really love you Henry, you know that?” Alex asks hours later when the tears have dried away and they’re doing nothing but mapping out the patches of skin on one another’s bodies— reverent  and unhurried and just because they need to be touching one another.

Henry wants to make a joke, thinks that on any other night he’d retort with a playful barb without a second thought, but he can’t make himself do so tonight, it all feels too raw, too real, too fragile.

“I love you  Alexander,” he says instead, cuddles closer to him. “For forever and a day.”

“Forever and a day.” Alex confirms and they fall asleep like that,  tangled in forever and one another and all their tomorrows.

.-

Buy Me A Coffee?💜

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

Here is Chapter 14 of Can’t Find My Way Home! 


I’ve officially determined this fic will have two more chapters–one a real chapter and the other a bit of an epilogue. Those are currently in editing mode! 

Chapter 14


Baz


I picked Simon up directly from the care home.


We’ve had the kind of afternoon I’d envisioned and now we’re sharing a curry in the kitchen at my flat.


My place is in better shape than I expected, what with me being gone for over six months. Fiona’s had someone come around to check on it once a month. It’s a bit dusty and stale, but not so bad.


It’s sleek and sterile, all modern lines and stark contrasts, but it’s home, of a sort. More than that soulless pre-furnished studio I have in Manhattan.


I spent my first year of uni living with Fiona. One year was more than enough. I found this place that first summer. Spent some of my inheritance furnishing it, making it my own. Even if that means somewhat uncomfortable ultra-modern furniture and a monochromatic color scheme. It doesn’t have the heavy, overly rich opulence of Pitch Manor or the eccentric chaos that characterized Fiona’s place. I love my aunt but she is a terrible flatmate. Between the clouds of cigarette smoke, her irrational hours, the on-again/off-again boyfriend situation, and the feral cat she’d adopted, I nearly went mad.


My flat is exceedingly neat, orderly, methodically arranged. A bit of a blank canvas still, almost like it’s waiting for me to figure out exactly what I want.


It suited me fine when I was at uni. I needed a quiet place to study. A peaceful place to sleep. It adequately accommodated movie nights with Dev and Niall. The kitchen’s first rate, but it’s not as if I entertain anyone other than the two of them or Fiona. This place is what I needed at the time.


It looks stark to me tonight.


Not as bleak as the place in New York but still there’s something off about it now. I know I haven’t lived here for months but there’s a sense of isolation when I take it in. No, maybe that’s not right. I can’t seem to find the right words to describe it.


Pitch Manor could be a featured house in Architectural Digest but it still looks lived in. Despite its historic nature and registry status, it manages to give off the sense that real people actually live there.


This place doesn’t. I don’t think it’s really hit me before. It could be an advert for a modern design catalog but the kind of place that never has any people in it—just a showplace, no depth behind it.


That troubles me.


Nothing to do about it now. I’m obliged to stay in New York until May, at least, if not longer.


We move to the main room after our meal and I flip the television on. Simon finds a cooking show he likes and I watch with him, his head resting on my shoulder. There’s none of the frenetic making out we’d indulged in last time we were together, at his flat earlier in the week.


You’d think there would be, seeing as I leave the day after tomorrow. It feels as if I’m trying to cram months’ worth of dating into just a few short days. We’ve indulged in snogging. He’s met the family. Now it’s time for companionship and just being together, soaking up his company to tide me over for the fucking brutal months of separation ahead.


I’m exhilarated at the proximity of him and terrified of his impending absence. I finally get him back, for what? A week? Only to then have to bugger off across the fucking Atlantic before I’ve had a chance to even get used to the idea of this.


“You’re thinking again.”


“I told you, I can’t help it.” I pull our laced hands to rest on my thigh. “I’m not like you. I can’t just push the thoughts away.”


“Don’t push them away then. But tell me what you’re thinking, so I can figure out when I need to tell you that you’re being a twat.”


“Well, that’d be all the time, now wouldn’t it? Isn’t that what you used to say?” I can’t help but smirk at him.


Simon rolls his eyes. “Don’t be using that against me.” He bumps my shoulder. “You’re far more pleasant now. Don’t fuck it up or I’ll have to tell Mordelia it’s all your fault.”


“Tell Mordelia what’s my fault?”


“If you get all caught up in your head like you do and start some existential drama about all this. She’ll blame me, she will, and she scares me.”


“You’re seriously frightened of a twelve-year-old girl? Don’t be ridiculous, Simon.”


“She’s may be twelve but she’s already got ice in her veins.” Simon tucks his head into the crook of my neck. “So don’t make me look bad or she’ll level me.”


I pull him closer to me, brush a kiss on his tumbled curls. How am I to be expected to just go back to Hampshire tonight? When I have Simon in my arms?


It’s intolerable.


“We could stay here tonight.” The thought’s been on my mind for hours.


Simon shifts so that he’s facing me, legs drawn up onto the sofa. “You’re supposed to head home tonight.”


“I don’t need to.”


He pushes at my knee. “You do. You’ve only got this week here. Tomorrow’s the last day you get to be with your family.” He kicks at my leg. “I’m not intending on starting this all off with your family hating me.”


I snort. “They couldn’t hate you, you numpty. They love you already.”


“They barely know me.”


“Exactly. And Mordelia’s already threatened you and Father’s invited you to Scotland. It’s a ringing endorsement.”


He laughs but quickly turns serious again. “I want to keep it that way, yeah? I’ll not be monopolizing you, when they’ve been pining to see you.”


“What if I want to be monopolized?”


“You’re impossible, you twat.”


“Come with me, then, Simon. Come to Hampshire with me. You can take the Tube from Heathrow when I fly out.”


“I shouldn’t.” Simon’s forehead creases. “I’m not sure I’ll say this right.” He tugs at his sleeve, pulling on the cuff of his jumper, then looks up to glare at me. “Don’t you take this the wrong way, you berk.”


I roll my eyes. “What is it you’re trying to say, Simon?”


“I don’t think I should go with you this time.”


“Why the hell not?”


Simon shifts on the sofa, one hand reaching up to rub at his neck. “This should be your time.”


“I’m not following you. It’s my time to spend as I choose. And I choose you.”


His expression turns achingly fond. “That means the world to me, Baz, really it does.” His hand finds mine, grip tightening on it for a moment. “It’s just that it’s important to me.”


“What is?”


“This. Us.” He waves his free hand in the air between us. “I’m lucky to have gotten these few days with you. Don’t want the little ‘uns resenting me being there and your family having this awkward extra person around, when they should be enjoying their time with you.” He shakes his head and juts his chin out.


Fuck. There’s no arguing with him when he gets this look. Don’t I know it.
I argue anyway. Because it’s what I do.


“That’s bollocks. They can jolly well enjoy their time with us. They did at Christmas. I don’t see it as a problem, Simon.” I touch his knee. “Come with me.”


His eyebrows come together. “Baz. I’d love to spend more time with you but I’m not doing it at the expense of time with your family.” His gaze softens. “I heard you. I heard you talking with your father, when we were at Ebb’s. I know how badly you wanted to get home, how much you’ve missed them.”


Simon’s not looking stubborn anymore. His expression has shifted to something far more melancholy. “I know I’m probably not saying this right.” He tugs at his hair. “Listen. I know I’m not one to talk about what it means to be with family, not having one and all. But I do know how important your family is to you, Baz, has always been to you.” He shifts closer to me. “It’ll be five months before you see them again. You should savor that time with them, without any distractions.” His grip on my hand is almost painful now. “Please?”


It’s the ‘please’ that gets me. That and the way his eyes meet mine, the intense blue of them piercing the depths of me.


“You’re sure? I know they wouldn’t mind.”


Simon shifts and then he’s pressed up against me again. “I’m sure. Not a good idea overstaying my welcome the first week we’re together.” He’s nuzzling at my neck, lips trailing up to my jaw. “But we don’t need to end the night just yet.” The words are whispered into my skin and I shiver.


I turn my head to touch my lips to his and a moment later I’m on my back, Simon above me, eyes wide, pupils blown. “I’ve got some memories I need to store up, yeah?”


And then his lips are on mine, his mouth taking my breath away, his tongue finding my own. My hands roam over his chest, his back, fingers tracing the muscles I feel there. He’s holding himself above me, his mouth and legs the only point of contact.


I want more.


I pull at him, bring him closer, yearning to feel the heady weight of him on me. Simon pulls back to look at me, balancing on one arm as his hand reaches out to stroke my face. I shift my legs and the movement throws him off balance a bit. Our legs tangle as he settles between mine, his chest pressed against my own.


“This alright then?” It’s a whisper, the exhalation of his breath warming my lips.


“More than alright.” My hands move up to tangle in his jumbled curls. I inhale the scent of him—medicinal soap, the green aroma of fresh mown grass, the crisp tang of his sweat. He always runs hot, Simon does. Now is no exception. He’s draped over me like my own personal heater and it warms more than just my body.


There’s been a frozen shell around me for so long. Thick and impenetrable, its icy surface offering no purchase for anyone intrepid or stupid enough to try to breach it.


Simon doesn’t back down from a challenge. He never has. He cuts right through to the heart of things, slashing past the obstacles in his way.


He’s not lacerating me with his words like he used to at school. It’s as if he’s wielding a blowtorch and has it pointed at my heart. You’d think it would burn but all I feel is warmth and softness, like I’m melting from the inside. 


Maybe I am. 


“You’re thinking again, you knob. Here I am trying to entice you and your brain is a million miles away.” He huffs at me. “So much for my attempt at seduction.”


“Trust me, Simon, I’m plenty enticed.” It’s true. My jeans are agonizingly tight at the moment. I close my eyes and breathe in and out. “And the only thing I’m thinking about is you.” 


He’s so near that his eyes are filling my vision, the flecks of darker blue and silver in them catching the light. “That’s alright then. I like the sound of that.” He shifts his weight and the friction nearly makes me gasp. 


I want to kiss him until the sun comes up. I want to rip this bulky jumper off him and feel his skin against mine. I want to roll my hips against his and feel the heat of him against me. 


I want to stay with him and never leave. 


Fuck New York. 


I reach up to meet his mouth, my lips avidly finding his own, the intensity of the moment overwhelming me. I’m gripping his shoulders, his weight presses down on me, his hand slides under my shirt to caress my skin. 


I want. I want so much. 


But I don’t want it like this. 


I don’t want to have this and then leave.


I can’t believe I’m doing this. It’s completely mental. But just as he didn’t want to jeopardize this fledgling relationship by alienating my family, I don’t want to risk too much tonight by moving too fast, when this is all so new for us both. 


It’s not like I’ve never done something like this before. I’m not that naïve. But I’ve never been with someone I’ve loved before. And I don’t want to rush through that. It means something to me. I want it to mean something, not be the frantic fumblings of my uni years. 


It’s all so much more meaningful because it’s Simon. 


I regretfully drag my lips away from his. “I’m going too fast, aren’t I?”

  
Simon’s flushed, dazed as he blinks down at me. He swallows, throat rippling with the motion. “No. It’s on me. I let my enthusiasm get the best of me, yeah?” He shakes his head. “That usually doesn’t happen that easily for me.” His eyes find mine again. “I always feel so awkward. But not with you, Baz. Somehow not with you.” He looks bashful. 


He goes to shift away but my arms keep him close. “It’s not that I don’t want to, Simon, I do.” 


Christ, do I ever. 


I keep my arms around his waist, my fingers gently running up and down his back. “If you think I’m having regrets about leaving you now … I’d find it near impossible to go if we went any further tonight.” I swallow and raise one eyebrow in an attempt to lessen the vulnerability my next words expose. “I … ah … I might perhaps have a tendency to be a bit clingy.” 


I’ve only had one consistent boyfriend in my life and I wasn’t even that fond of Sebastian, but I am quite regrettably a bit of a cuddler after intimate encounters. My face is on fire. I may burst into flames on the spot. I’ve never admitted such a weakness to anyone before. 


Simon doesn’t look appalled or confounded by this humiliating admission of mine. He looks entirely delighted. “Clingy, you say?”

  
“Shut up. I never should have said anything.” I would sink into the oblivion of the sofa cushions if I could. 


He strokes the side of my jaw and turns my face to his again. “I like that, Baz. I like that a lot.” Simon leans down to brush his lips against my ear. “I can be clingy too.” 


And just like that, he’s done it again. He’s taken me at my most exposed and emotionally compromised state and not only accepted what I’ve said but made me feel safe and secure in his regard. 


I don’t know how he does it. 


Fuck. I think I said that out loud. 


Simon shrugs, lips curving up as his eyes meet mine. “Dunno. I just say what comes in my head.” He goes up on his elbows. “It’s true though. The clingy part.” 


His face is the one deepening in color now, as he keeps talking. “There wasn’t much contact at the homes, yeah? The matrons didn’t really let themselves get attached. Nobody did. I think the only human contact I really had, once I was out of the nursery, was when I’d get into fights.” His brow furrows. “I got in a fair number of them.” 


“I’m faintly aware.” We’d had our share the first few years at Watford.


He shrugs. “Yeah. Sorry about that. It was one of the only ways I had to get my feelings out and feel connected to anything.” His jaw clenches momentarily. “I got moved around a fair bit. Never at a place for more than a year or two.” His brow creases. “None of them were ever home. The only place that ever felt like that was Watford.”


I sit up a bit. This is a far more serious conversation now, and I feel like I need to have all my focus on what Simon is saying. He rarely ever talks about the care homes. I shift until my back is against the armrest and I sit up even further. Simon give me a quizzical look. I don’t say anything, but I open my arms to him. He moves to follow me, sliding in at my side, back against the sofa cushions and his head on my chest. I can’t see his face but I think he prefers it that way for the moment.


“Go on,” I say.


He shifts a bit and then slides an arm around my waist. I bring my hand up, fingers coming to gently stroke the hair at the nape of his neck.


Simon sighs. “One of the very first things I loved about Penny was how she wasn’t afraid to be near me, not even first year. She’d hug me and sit next to me, lean into me when she was cold. I’d never had that with anyone. No one had ever willingly come into contact with me, other than to bash my face in or shove me.” He burrows further into my chest, the warmth of his breath seeping through my jumper. “I liked it. It made me feel cared for, yeah?” 


My family is not the most demonstrative but I know exactly what he means. After my mother died Fiona would always make a point of hugging me. Every time she was with me. When she’d get to the house, when she’d leave. When she’d put me to bed. Sometimes to the point of driving me mad, but I still relished that contact. 


My mother was the best at hugs. I remember that about her. Tight, all-encompassing hugs. Warm and firm and safe. 


Daphne’s not a big hugger but she never shied away, once she married Father, from making sure I knew I was loved. She followed Fiona’s lead and even though I know it’s not second nature to her, I’m grateful for the effort she made.


“I know what you mean, Simon.” 


“I told you the intimacy part of things felt awkward with Agatha. It did. Just didn’t feel right somehow. But I loved having the physical closeness—holding hands, hugging, having her tucked under my arm when we’d watch movies. That was the best part.” Simon’s silent for a moment. “That was really the part I missed when we broke up. Not our conversations, or our kissing, or making out, truth be told. It was having someone to hold.” He pauses again, voice lowering. “And someone holding me. That’s what I missed.” 


My fingers sink into his hair, nails lightly dragging across his scalp. 


“It’s not that way with you though, Baz. Doesn’t feel awkward. I feel … I’m not even sure I’m going to say this right, I’m never good with words.” His voice is barely audible when he speaks again. “There’s just something so familiar about you. It’s comforting, I guess. Reassuring.” Simon’s fingers grip my jumper. “Watford’s the only home I’ve ever known. The only place I felt I belonged.” I have to tilt my head down to hear his next words. “In a room I shared with you.”


He sighs and holds me tighter. “So I get it, Baz, I get it.” He turns his head up to look at me, a shy expression on his face and his cheeks coloring again. “I might be even clingier than you.”


I bring my other arm up and around his shoulders. I brush my lips to his forehead. “Watch it now, Simon. You know how competitive I get. I might just take that as a challenge.”


He laughs and buries his head in my chest again. I could stay here all night, on this sofa, with Simon in my arms.


In truth I can’t, because my furniture is so fucking uncomfortable. There is literally no padding on this armrest. It’s digging into my back. I’m sure to have a mark. The cushions are far too rigid as well. It’s like my arse is sat on a plank.


What the fuck was I thinking when I bought this ridiculous angular sofa? It’s fine for watching movies with your mates but absolute rubbish for this kind of thing.


I’m going to have to rethink the whole décor. 


But I can stand it, for a bit longer, because I’ve got Simon in my arms and I don’t want to let him go.

Simon


We stay on the sofa for a long time, me cradled in Baz’s arms, my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. It’s late. Past time for him to get home. 


I don’t want to move though. It still astounds me, how arousing I find Baz and at the same time how achingly comfortable. I’m glad he pulled us back. I wasn’t thinking clearly. All I could think about was how much I wanted him, how much I needed to feel closer to him, how the thought of him being so far away was so much more painful with each passing moment.


He says he wouldn’t have been able to leave. I don’t know if I would have been able to let him go. 


It’s not like that for me, usually. The physical intimacy, I mean. Not the hand holding or kissing. I can manage that just fine. I like that. 


It’s the other stuff that usually freezes me up. Makes me jittery, nervous, awkward. 


But not tonight. Not with Baz. With Baz it felt … it felt right. It felt comfortable. It felt safe. 


It felt like belonging. Like coming home. 


I finally sit up and run a hand through my hair. Baz is heavy-lidded, ready to fall asleep by the looks of him. “You need some tea, Baz? Before you head back?”

 
“Are you really making me go home?” There’s a hint of a smirk so I know he’s teasing.


“You know I am. You promised.”


“I did no such thing.”


“You implied.”


“Wrong again.”


“Come on, you prick, you said you agreed with me.” 


“I did not. You just assumed. I never actually agreed to anything before you ravished me with your charms.”


“I never managed to ravish you, you tosser.” I’m grinning at him now. There’s no one like Baz for banter like this. I never used to call it banter. I used to call it him being an arse. 


“More’s the pity.” He’s smiling now too. 


We move to the kitchen and Baz puts the electric kettle on. He drinks his tea while he leans against the counter, his arm around my shoulders. 


I feel like we’re moving in slow motion now, every moment an attempt to drag out our time together. Tying my shoes seems to take ages. Baz keeps adjusting his coat.


We’re silent as the moments tick by, making our progress out of his flat, down to his garage, finding his car. It’s like a series of snapshots, the images imprinting on my brain—the way the light hits his face, the line of his coat draped over his shoulders, the feel of his fingers intertwined with mine.

Baz


The drive to Hampshire gives me too much time to think. Each mile that takes me away from Simon drags at me, like there’s a magnet in my chest pulling me back towards him.

Simon


I’m just drifting off to sleep when my mobile pings.


Baz: I’m back in Hampshire. 


Baz: I miss you already. 


I miss him too. I text him just that.

Baz


The aeroplane door shuts with a dismal thud. This is it. I’m headed back to New York. Any romantic ideas I’d entertained about turning back are put to rest now that the doors are closed and the plane is pulling away from the gate. 


Five fucking months. 


It feels like a fucking lifetime. 


My phone is in aeroplane mode, the last text I sent to Simon unanswered on my screen. 


Five months. 


It’s taken me almost five years, a job thousands of miles away, a miserable drive across the entire east coast of America, and traversing the Atlantic by plane—not once, but now almost twice in the span of a week—to realize that the place I feel the most content, the most myself, the most at peace is wherever Simon is. 


Five bloody months doesn’t seem so insurmountable when I think of it like that.


I’ll be coming home to him.

[helga-leakadia]

Writing New England Towns

(When your only knowledge comes from Gilmore Girls and Family Guy)

New England was the first part of the US to be permanantly settled by Europeans. It is home to some of the oldest history of the US as we know it, tons of amazing seafood, some of the most beautiful fall scenes, and a bunch of die-hard sports fans.

I grew up in a small town in Connecticut and spent my summers in a small city in Maine and now live in a somewhat large city in Rhode Island. Did you follow all that? That makes me (in my own mind at least) an expert on New England. So, if your setting is my little neck of the woods, here's some tips to make the writing feel authentic.

Getting Around

We are very small states. You can get into another state within a few hours' drive. Most of our cities are also pretty small (Boston is the exception) and therefore anything you know about small towns can be applied to our states in general. It happened often I'd be in Vermont and met people who knew my friends in Connecticut.

Driving here is shitty, to say the least. I think we basically took the roads used in the 1600s and put tar on them and called them highways.

We know how to drive in all sorts of weather, which makes us extremely aggressive drivers. We love our horns. Massachusetts and Rhode Island are probably the most aggressive

Traffic is increased exponentially in the fall when people come to see the leaves change. We call these people Leaf Peepers

Going to "the city" most likely means Boston and it is surprisingly well connected through buses and trains

Driving to Canada is super easy for a long weekend

Weather

We experience vastly changing weather. It can be snowing on Monday and 65 on Tuesday

Winter means a frozen tundra where there can be feet of snow falling on you (one year we had so much we had to climb out the second floor windows to leaves the house).

It's the wind that really is cold. Sure, 27 isn't too cold for winter...but then its -7 with windchill and you want to die.

Summer can see 100+ degree days and it is humid! We escape to the beach where the water is a whopping 65 degrees (and colder the further north you go. Looking at you Bar Harbor)

Fall is beautiful. But winter likes to butt in early sometimes. Halloween costumes are often accessorized with winter coats

Connecticut

It's a bit of an exception and kinda the oddball of New England. The northern portion is standard New England, but as you get closer to New York it basically changes to trying to be the 6th borough. As you drive you can literally feel where the line is

New Hampshire

Another exception. While the rest of the states are basically all democratic-leaning, New Hampshire stays red pretty often. We let it slide though because they don't tax their alcohol.

Speaking of: its sometimes more cost effective to drive to New Hampshire and stock up on alcohol. I also like it because it's the only place in the area that I know of where you can buy whiskey at Rite Aid

It was only within the last 5 or so years that you could buy alcohol on sundays here (though other states are like this as well)

Slang

Just because it's fun to know. But be careful if you don't know how to use these words correctly

Wicked. Super, a lot, awesome, a great musical on Broadway. It's a versatile word

Packie. Used only in Comnecticut, short for package store. You go here to buy alcohol

Bubbler. Used mainly in Connecticut and Rhode Island, it's a water fountain

Leaf peepers. As said above, it's people who come up here in the fall to see the leaves change. Often said angrily when you're stuck in traffic (ie. Fuckin leaf peepers)

Rubbernecking. When traffic slows down due to trying to see what's going on on the side of the road (like someone being pulled over). A person who does this is a rubbernecker

Other Stuff of Note

Gilmore Girls got a lot right. Everyone knows everyone, small towns are super quirky, deer run out and hit your cars often. However! Public transit from New Haven to Hartford would not take 30 minutes. More like 3+ hours with multiple transfers.

Peter Griffin's accent is exaggerated but it is pretty accurate for Rhode Island and Massachusetts. Stewie's accent is known as "Brahman" and is known as the accent of the social elite of Boston. If you've ever heard the Kennedy family speak, they also have a social elite accent known as "the Queen's English." Other than that, our accents are pretty "neutral"

Crayon, drawer, and mirror are all one syllable words. Its "cran," "draaw" (held out slightly longer than "to draw a picture"), and "mirrr" (basically eliminate the "o." Almost like a growly R I guess would be the best way to describe it)

Most words ending in -er turn to the -ah sound. Most famous is of course chowdah. G's are also often dropped at the end of words

Speaking of chowder, Manhattan clam chowder is sacrilegious. We don't talk about Manhattan clam chowder and its WRONG use of tomatoes.

[fhtess]

This week’s 52 Ancestor’s theme allows me to profile another of my great-uncles, William John Paul Ferdinando. He did indeed stay close to home, living with his parents, and then his mother, until 1954 when the latter died.

The only photos I have of him are from his childhood (click individual images to enlarge):

On the right he is sitting beside his sister Hilda, with their mum, Rosanna, behind them. Judging by their ages, I would guess this photo was taken in 1912, when he was two and Hilda was four. Two to three years later, Rosanna posed for another photo with William and his two sisters, Hilda and my grandmother, also Rosanna, who was born in 1902. It’s curious that the three other boys, Cecil (b. 1905), Francis (Frank) (b. 1906), and Arthur (b. 1914) were absent. Perhaps there’s another photo with them in it that I haven’t seen.

Born on March 8, 19101, he was the seventh child for Rosanna (née Lawley) and Frederick Ferdinando. The family was living in Islington in this period, at 314 Hornsey Road.2 As with all their houses, they were close to the railroad, which, for a little boy must have been quite thrilling. I imagine his mother was less thrilled as the dirty air would have made it difficult to dry their clothes outside without accumulating soot, while breathing the foul odours produced by engines belching while they idled at the Hornsey Road Railway Station on the Tottenham & Hampstead Junction Railway, a mere half mile from the house (click image to enlarge).

Within a year of his birth, however, his father was convicted of fraud and sent to Wormwood Scrubs prison where he served six-months of hard labour. Even worse, during his incarceration, his mother gave birth to a girl, Ivy, who died about four months later.3 It must have been a difficult time for the family and a confusing one for a little boy. I know my grandmother, 8 years his senior, was always close to him, so it seems likely she helped care for him while their mother was preoccupied with holding the family together and caring for a baby.

By 1912, with father Frederick home again, the family had returned to the south side of the Thames, moving to Tooting, where William remained for the rest of his life. While only 4 at the outbreak of WWI, he would have experienced at least some of the terror of the bombing raids in the general area and then, later, the fear when his older brother (also named Frederick) went off to fight with the Bedfordshire and Hertfordshire Regiment.4 Their father also served for six months with the 1st Provisional Division of the Royal Engineers in the post-war period, between May and December 1919, for which he received the Silver War Badge.5 War work continued during the demobilization period.

For a few years after the war, life would have been relatively normal for young William, however, in January 1924, his father died,6 leaving his mother a widow at age 47. The 1925 Electoral Roll reveals that his brother Frederick was still at home, so at least there was some stability, and I know that his sister Rosanna was also living there, though both married in July 1926, which would have been a big change. However, his sister Hilda and brothers Frank, Cecil and Arthur remained at home until Frank married (1931) and Cecil, sadly, was admitted to various institutions to treat his mental illness.

When researching family members we’ve never met, it can be so difficult to envision them as real people, rather than names and dates on records. I’ve heard a few family stories about William, however, there’s one incident from his life that no-one told me about, likely because they didn’t know. It gives me an ever better picture of him, one that definitely brings him alive to me. In the mid-1930s, he had a little fun with a milk-wagon, an escapade that made the newspapers. Below is my transcript of one of the articles:

        DROVE HORSE ” FOR  FUN.”

 “I had never driven a horse and van in my life, and wanted to see what it was like.  I did it for fun.”

William John Paul Ferdinando, 26, a clerk, of Elms Road, Clapham, made this excuse at  the South-Western  police court,  Monday, when accused of stealing a horse and a milk van with its contents.

A milk roundsman stated that while he was delivering at North Side, Clapham Common, on Sunday morning, he saw Ferdinando driving the van away.   After going 150 yards, the man jumped off the van and ran down a side street.

Mr. Claud Mullins, the magistrated, dismissed the charge, saying :  “I cannot conceive the theft of a van marked all over with the owner’s name.  I am satisfied that the man had no intention of stealing.7

Further coverage appeared in the Singapore Free Press and Mercantile Advertiser which included another quote from William: “I didn’t intend to steal.”, while it seems Mr. Mullins also informed the court that: “…there is no such charge known to the law as stealing a milk van which is pulled by a horse.”8 

Of course, we have to assume the journalist could possibly have enhanced the details for effect, but even so, both the initial incident and the court case are easy scenes to imagine and I think a part of us can understand how someone might be tempted to do just what he did. Incidentally, the address for William is incorrect, unless, perhaps he had indeed moved out for a short period. Certainly, during the 1930s, he only appeared in the Electoral rolls at the Defoe Road/Garratt Lane (there was a name change in the late 30s) address.9

From the 1939 Register, I received confirmation of the detail of his occupation from the newspaper story (clerk). He and his mother, Rosanna, and younger brother, Arthur, were recorded as living at 912 Garratt Lane (the house didn’t change, only the address), and his occupation is that of “Cashier-Bookkeeper”. The birth date given on his baptismal record is the same in this document, March 8, 1910.10 As Rosanna was not employed and living on whatever money Frederick left in 1924 (I haven’t found a probate record or will) as well as his army pension (26 shillings, 8 pence),11 I imagine the reason William and Arthur didn’t see active service is that they were working to support their mother. There might have been other extenuating circumstances. Their sister Hilda was in Bournemouth at this point, working at a children’s home as a nurse.12

After the war, Hilda returned to London. I know she worked at Gorringes department store and she seemed to sometimes live at home and sometimes elsewhere. Meanwhile, Arthur married Dorothy Horsley in the summer of 1941,13 thus leaving William as the only child at home with their mother who was now in her late 50s. By 1945, Rosanna and William had left the family home and moved to Gosberton Road, not far away. My mother remembers visiting her grandmother and uncle at this location and William remained there till at least 1965, even after Rosanna’s death in 1954.14 It must have been a wrench at first, given that Frederick was buried just down the street at Streatham Cemetery,15 however, as my mum remembers them living in a flat, it’s likely the upkeep was far easier with fewer rooms. With Hilda’s death in 1952,16 it left just the two of them.

912 Garratt Lane (left) and 8 Gosberton Road (right) with map showing the distance between them, copyright GoogleMaps and Google Streetview. (click to enlarge)

William died during the first three months of 1970 and, as his death was registered in Wandsworth,17 I’ve no reason to believe he left Gosberton Road, where he was recorded in the 1965 Electoral Roll.18 I’ve never been clear whether Rosanna, and later William, rented or owned the flat there. Given how comfortable he would have been in that area (the distance between Garratt Lane and Gosberton Road was only 1.7 miles), it seems unlikely he would choose to move so late in his life. Perhaps at some point I will order a paper copy of his death certificate (the pdf versions are only available up to 1957) to find out for sure.

He arrived in Tooting in 1912 when he was two years old and, unlike his brothers and sister, Rosanna, remained there for the next 58 years. It most certainly what he would have identified as “home.” Of course, he would have seen lots of change over the decades, but it’s lovely to note that the two houses he knew best remain standing today. I expect his life was a little lonely after his sister and mother died, though I know my grandmother, Rosanna, visited him from time to time, travelling there from her home in Hampshire. There can be little doubt that throughout his life he was always close to home.

Below is an overview of his life, generated by RootsMagic (click to enlarge):

References

1 Baptisms (PR). England. St. Mark, Tollington Park, Islington. 03 Jul 1910. Ferdinando, William John Paul (b. 08 Mar 1910, s. of Frederick Edward and Rosanna May). Board of Guardian Records and Church of England Parish Registers. London Metropolitan Archives, London; Reference Number: p83/mrk/007. Collection: London, England, Church of England Births and Baptisms, 1813-1917 image. Ancestry (https://ancstry.me/2PXC6X2 : accessed 26 December 2019)

2 Ibid.

Electoral listings. England. Islington North, Islington, London. 1910. Ferdinando, Frederick Edward (314 Hornsey Road). No.: 7523; Page: 268. Electoral Registers. London, England: London Metropolitan Archives. Collection:  London, England, Electoral Registers, 1832-1965 image. Ancestry (https://ancstry.me/2uxwESy : accessed 25 January 2020)

3 Births Index (CR). England. Islington, Middlesex. Q2. 1911. Ferdinando, Ivy H. Vol. 1b; p. 191. General Register Office. Free BMD ; England and Wales Civil Registration Indexes. London, England: General Register Office. Collection: FreeBMD, England & Wales, Civil Registration Birth Index, 1837-1915 image. Ancestry (https://ancstry.me/2Rw3dJQ : accessed 26 January 2020).

Births index (CR). England. Islington, Middlesex. 1911. Q2. Ferdinando, Ivy Helena, mmn: Barlow. Vol: 01B; Page: 191. General Register Office (GRO) Online Index search result. (https://www.gro.gov.uk/gro/content/certificates/indexes_search.asp : accessed 26 January 2020)

Burials index. England. Islington, London. 26 Aug 1911. Ferdinando, Ivy Helena. The central database for UK burials and cremations. Deceased Online. Collection: Web: UK, Burial and Cremation Index, 1576-2014 transcription. Ancestry (http://bit.ly/36tXAzY : accessed 26 January 2020.

Burial registers. England. Islington, London. 26 Aug 1911. Ferdinando, Ivy Helena. Burial register summary. Deceased Online (http://bit.ly/37vTHf7 : accessed 28 January 2019)

    4 Service records (army). England. War Office (Great Britain). Medal Rolls Index Cards. Medal Card. Ferdinando, Frederick A. (Private). Corps: Bedfordshire Regiment. Regiment No.: 35147. Army Medal Office; WWI Medal Index Cards; Western Front Association. Collection: British Army WWI Medal Rolls Index Cards, 1914-1920 image. Ancestry (https://ancstry.me/2RuHQsa : accessed 26 December 2019)

5 Service records (army). England. War Office (Great Britain). Roll of Individuals entitledto the “War Badge”, First World War. Medal Roll. Ferdinands [sic], Frederick (Sapper). Unit: 1st Prov. Co. Regiment No.: 607533. The National Archives; Kew, Surrey, England; War Office and Air Ministry: Service Medal and Award Rolls, First World War; Silver War Badge; RG WO 329, 2958–3255; Reference No.: 329. Collection: UK, Silver War Badge Records, 1914-1920 image. Ancestry (https://ancstry.me/2NZr02q : 26 May 2019)

6 Deaths (CR). England. All Souls, St. Marylebone, London. 17 Jan 1924. Ferdinando, Frederick Edward (age 48, Auctioneer’s Clerk). No. 389. Certificate (electronic). Southport, Merseyside: General Register Office. Delivered electronically, 24 Jan 2018.

7 Shepton Mallet Journal. 1936. Drove horse “for fun”. Shepton Mallett Journal. 25 Sep. p. 3e. © Trinity Mirror. Collection: British Newspapers image. FindMyPast (http://bit.ly/2VB7EDC : accessed 11 October 2019)

8 Singapore Free Press and Mercantile Advertiser. 1936. Ferdinando has fun with the Milk Van.The Singapore Free Press and Mercantile Advertiser (1884-1942), 02 Oct. Page: 6e. (http://bit.ly/326m2G8 : accessed 11 Oct 2019)

9 Electoral listings. England. Balham and Tooting and Central, Wandsworth, London. 1935. Ferdinando, William John (75 Defoe Road). No.: 955; Page: 880. Electoral Registers. London, England: London Metropolitan Archives. Collection: London, England, Electoral Registers, 1832-1965 image. Ancestry (https://ancstry.me/36v08Of : accessed 26 January 2020).

10 Census returns. England. Wandsworth Met B, London. 29 Sep 1939. Ferdinando, William J.P. (912 Garratt Lane, Cashier-Bookkeeper). Enumeration district: AXLH; No. of Schedule: 110/2. The National Archives; Kew, London, England; 1939 Register; Reference: RG 101/592H. Collection: 1939 England and Wales Register image. Ancestry (https://ancstry.me/3aNvNxO : accessed 07 November 2016).

11 Service records. England. War Office (Great Britain). Pension Record Ledger. Ferdinando, Frederick Edward (Regimental No.: 60753, R.E., Sapper) and Ferdinando, Rosanna May (widow, 75 Defoe Road). Western Front Association; London, England; Pension Record Cards; Reference No.: 070/0316/FEN-FER. Collection: UK, WWI Pension Ledgers and Index Cards image. Fold3 (https://www.fold3.com/image/668673844 : accessed 08 November 2019)

Service records. England. War Office (Great Britain). Widow’s Pension. Ferdinando, Frederick Edward (d. 17 Jan 1924, Regimental No.: 60753, R.E., Private) and Ferdinando, Rosanna May (widow, 75 Defoe Road). Western Front Association; London, England; PRC Ledgers; Reference No.: 614/11W. Collection: UK, WWI Pension Ledgers and Index Cards image. Fold3 (https://www.fold3.com/image/645205601 : accessed 27 November 2018)

12 Census returns. England. Bournemouth, Hampshire. 29 Sep 1939. Ferdinando, Hilda M (b. 17 May 1908). RD 94-1; ED EAAO. 1939 Register (Series RG101), The National Archives, Kew, London, England. Collection: 1939 England and Wales Register. Ancestry.ca (https://ancstry.me/2KMgpne : accessed 07 November 2016)

13 Marriages index (CR). England. Worcester. 3Q. 1941. Ferdinando, Arthur G. and Horsley, Dorothy M. Vol.: 6c; Page: 577. England and Wales Civil Registration Indexes. London, England: General Register Office; FEN-FER; Page: 414. Collection: England & Wales, Civil Registration Marriage Index, 1916-2005 image. Ancestry (https://ancstry.me/38KJAU4 : accessed 26 January 2020).

14 Deaths (CR). England. Battersea. 02 Mar 1954. Ferdinendo Rosanna May, (77 years years, of 8 Gosberton Road, Balham Widow of Frederick Edward Ferdinendo Auctioneers Surveyor); registered 03 Mar 1954. No. 24. Death registration certificate (electronic). Southport, Merseyside: General Register Office. Delivered electronically, 30 Dec 2017.

15 Burials (PR). England. Wandsworth, Battersea, Surrey, England. 24 Jan 1924. Ferdinando, Frederick E. (age 48, 75 Defoe Road). Page: 10; Entry No.: 39609. Burial, ,London Metropolitan Archives, England. Collection: England, Surrey Parish Registers, 1536-1992 image. FamilySearch (https://familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:QGZP-HXD2); FHL microfilm 1,564,473. Image 14 of 57.

“England, Surrey Parish Registers, 1536-1992,” database, FamilySearch(https://familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:QGZP-HXD2: 19 April 2018), Frederick Edward Ferdinando, 24 Jan 1924; citing Burial, ,London Metropolitan Archives, England; FHL microfilm 1,564,473. Image 14 of 57.

16 Deaths (CR) England (N.p.: n.p., n.d.), Westminster North West, Westminster. 15 Feb 1952. Ferdinando, Hilda Maude (age 42, House clerk (stores), daughter of Frederick Edward Ferdinendo Auctioneer deceased). No. 72. Certificate (electronic). Southport, Merseyside: General Register Office. Delivered electronically 21 Feb 2019.

17 Deaths index (CR). England. Wandsworth. Q1. 1970. Ferdinando, William John P. (b. 8 Mar 1910). Vol. 5e; Page 1483. General Register Office. England and Wales Civil Registration Indexes. London, England: General Register Office. © Crown copyright. Collection: England & Wales, Civil Registration Death Index, 1916-2007 image. Ancestry.ca (https://ancstry.me/2U25X3i : accessed 26 January 2020)

18 Electoral listings. England. Clapham Constituency, Wandsworth (G.L.C Area). 1965. Ferdinando, William John (8 Gosberton Road). No.: 2196; Page: eleven. Electoral Registers. London, England: London Metropolitan Archives. Collection: London, England, Electoral Registers, 1832-1965 image. Ancestry (https://ancstry.me/2tLLFAo : accessed 26 January 2020).

52 Ancestors...Close to home... #52Ancestors #Ferdinandofamilyhistory #Wandsworthhistory #familyhistory #ancestors #lineage #heritage #femaleancestors #collateralancestors #Londonhistory #Tootinghistory This week's 52 Ancestor's theme allows me to profile another of my great-uncles, William John Paul Ferdinando.

[russetm]

20 facts! I was tagged by @sl-walker

1. I pace, like a lot, I probably spend at least an hour everyday pacing back and forth in my room. I put on music and claim I’m “dancing” but srsly, I’m just pacing, I have done this my entire life.

2. I went to a Quaker sleepaway Summer camp for many years as a child called Friends Camp in South China Maine. It was probably the high point of my New Hampshire years, (it was less of a magical retreat during the Cape years as I had like actual friends I could see but it was still great). On a funny and related note I meet another UU years latter who went to a different Quaker summer camp and I’m now curious if this is a thing of UU’s going to Quaker camp.

3. I was a vegetarian from the ages of like 12 until maybe 15? 16? I only stopped because my mother said she wasn’t going to cook me separate meals any more and “No M. just mashed potatoes does not a dinner make you have to have something else as well.” and h.s. me wasn’t going to make her own meals so I just stopped. (I was also a never super serious about it anyways, like if we were out to eat and I didn’t like the veg. options I’d just order meat, and I have never been able to turn down baked kibbeh or kababs from Ed Hyder’s)

4. I went to 3 elementary schools, 2 middle schools, and 1 highschool.

5. I’ve been on staff for the same anime con for 15 years, even though I’m mostly out of anime and for the most part am not that interested in anime any more I just keep going back, I’ve made a lot of friends there, and I still like it even if I find a lot of it overwhelming and frustrating.

6. I have on more than one occasion hitch hicked around Worcester.

7. I was at Bill Clinton’s second inauguration, I was 13 at the time and its probably the thing I least remember from that trip, it was a flurry of excitement, I got to travel alone from MA to DC to spent time with my cool Aunt, and her cool boyfriend, and my super cool arty Great Aunt, and we got to go out to cool museums and do all sorts of neat things so a boring parade and what to a 13 year old me was just a bunch of boring adult speeches really didn’t stick much in my mind compared to all the other stuff. I also seem to recall the day being miserable cold for just standing around.

8. I was heavily involved in Piping Plover and Herring Conservation when I was in late elementary school and middle school.

9. I was tricked into seeing Titanic in the theater and I have never truly or fully forgiven the people involved.

10. from the age of 11 until I left the Cape I volunteered at the Cape Cod Natural History Museum and it was a lot of fun, its where I met my best friend. (we’re still pals, not counting family she’s the person I’ve known the longest.)

11. I once almost drowned in an undertow as a child (not a rip tide I know the difference) I was a slight and small child, and we were on a rocky ocean side beach and as I was getting out of the ocean a large wave broke over me causing my to loose my footing and go under, and then I got tumbled by the undertow, couldn’t get my feet under me because the rocks kept shifting, my parents had to come and fish me out of the surf.

12. I haven’t shaved in 11 years and even before that I only shaved twice a year, for my ex’s birthday and Christmas as he liked it and it was something I could do for with minimal effort, he really didn’t like it that I hated shaving.

13.  I have, and I will again watched and read things that I know will irritate me for just that reason. Sometimes I just like to have something nice and harmless to focus my irritation on.

14. I have never had poison ivy and seeing as the cape is covered in the stuff and I spent a lot of time running around in those woods that is an impressive feat (or I’m just not allergic to it, but either way)

15. I’ve only had 2 cups of coffee in my life, the first cup I thought was pretty ok, but I was also exhausted and hungry so I’m sure that anything would have tasted good then (it was a regular dunks, a friend bought it for me because he thought I could use a pick me up) the second was from Starbucks and I did not like it and nothing I did to it over at the stuff to put in coffee bar made it any better. I have also only ever made 2 pots of coffee, the first was an unmitigated disaster (sorry) the second one came out ok and it was for my Besties bridal shower.

16. I enjoy collecting things, I always have, when I was a girl it was neat looking rocks, sea shells, animal figures, post cards, model horses (I still have a bunch of my Breyer horses floating around by my old MLP’s are long gone) and what ever else caught my fancy at any given moment. Now its tea cups, I love my beautiful and lovely little tea cups that are all different from each other, I use a different one every day (tea pots I’d less say I collect and just happen to have a few) and yarn craft supplies, I have a fair assortment of different knitting needles and crochet hooks. (and sorta books and movies/tv shows, or a figure of some kind that has caught my fancy) (also I want to get rid of all of our dishes and slowly rebuild a collection of mismatched dishes so I can have a more of a collection of beautiful and practical things in my life, but it would drive Boyfriend to distraction having everything being that not matching)

17. Sometimes I get argumentatively irritated with how people talk about Cape Cod, espesh P-town. People seem fundamentally unable to understand what a tourist economy does to a place, particularly a tourist economy that is only on for half the year and that huge swatch of the cape enforce a quaint and rural look. I haven’t lived there full time in like 20 years and I still get riled up over the tourists and stuff.

18.  I technically learned how to knit when I was a young girl, but it didn’t stick, partially because my mother thought it would be a good idea for one of my first projects to be mittens made on dpn’s and I just found the whole thing to be confusing and gave it up and never really thought about it again other than “damn my mom makes some really cool stuff” but I picked it up in earnest in my very late teens or very early 20’s (I know for sure I was knitting by 22), and I taught myself to crochet shortly there after. Other crafts have come and gone over the years but playing with yarn has been a good companion to me.

19. As much as I can be super pretentious about tea some times (“Oh, I drink loose leaf tea and I have special little things for it ah-blahblahblah(I’m aware of how I sometimes come off)) I’m actually not that fussy about it, bag tea, loose tea, cheap tea, fancy tea, pellet tea, I don’t care, I’m just happy as long as it is tea. And I’m not one to whip out the thermometer going “oh for this style of tea the water must to only be heated to a blahblah temperature and one one degree more and only steeped for exactly 2.34 minutes or you’ll ruuuuuuiiiiiiin it” what ever, put the tea in the hot water, it’ll be fine, if the tea should in theory have less hot water wait a bit before putting tea in. it isn’t rocket science, we don’t need exact precision its going to be fine, and then I’m going to steep my tea again, because that shit can be expensive and you can get more than one use out of your leaves.

20. I don’t enjoy playing most video games but I’m usually pretty happy to watch someone play a video game.

so I’m tagging anyone who wants to do this.

[peckhampeculiar]

Down our way... Grove Vale Youth Club

IN THE FOURTH PART OF OUR SERIES ON PECKHAM’S COMMUNITY SPACES, WE WENT ALONG TO THE GROVE VALE YOUTH CLUB.

The long-running space on McDermott Road has been visited by three generations of some local families since it opened in 1946

WORDS: MIRANDA KNOX; PHOTO: ALEXANDRA WAESPI

With such a loyal group of volunteers and mem­bers, the Grove Vale Youth Club on McDermott Road must have been doing something right for all these years.

The traditional club was set up just after World War Two and has maintained its popularity for more than 70 years – even achieving the impres­sive feat of attracting members from several gen­erations of some local families.

Grandparents initially joined when the club first started, followed by their children and their grandchildren, who still attend or volunteer, even now.

Among the most longstanding volunteers is retired insurance manager and club leader John Young, 82, who lives in Peckham.

He says: “We’re very close knit – most of us have grown up together, and we encourage our younger club members to help.

“A lot of our helpers met through the club and got married. We have second and third genera­tions who come – four or five children’s parents came to the club, and so did their grandparents.”

Costing just £1 a session, the club – which was established in 1946 by Ethel and Arthur Wellsted, who ran Sunday schools initially from their house on Oglander Road before later moving to their current location in the 1950s – can even claim to be award-winning.

The group – which is closely affiliated to Christ Church next door – won the Queen’s Golden Ju­bilee Award for voluntary service by groups in the community earlier this year.

The highest honour given to local volunteer groups in the UK, it was presented to Grove Vale Youth Club for its work in “helping young people develop moral, social and physical capabilities”.

The aim of the club, which is run by 24 volun­teers, is simple. John says: “Our club provides a place where young people can attend in a safe environment with dedicated staff. We aim to pro­vide moral and social development along with physical and education facilities that will provide a firm foundation for young people’s lives.”

John, whose children and grandchildren have all been club members, has attended the club since he was 15.

It was here he met his now wife Joan, 77, who also volunteers and helps run the club.

He says: “I belonged to another club in those days and we played Grove Vale at football, table tennis and cricket, and then I saw the club lead­er and one of the founders, Bert, and he said to come along.

“Most of our helpers originally came to the youth club. It was something to do. There weren’t so many educational places to go to at that time. There were other clubs, like the Bradfield Club [on Commercial Way], who I played as a 14 year old at table tennis.”

The club got its name when it moved to Grove Vale School, which is now Goose Green primary.

In the late 1950s it obtained permission to build a clubhouse on a derelict piece of land on McDer­mott Road, which had been bombed during the war, and it has been based there ever since.

Famous former members include Kung Fu Fighting singer Carl Douglas, as well as Arsenal football player Gavin McGowan.

The sessions – held every weeknight – are split into age groups and boys and girls are also di­vided, only mixing for their annual summer camp.

On Mondays the 11 to 15-year-old girls’ session takes place, with boys of the same age attending on Wednesdays. Activities for both include team sports such as netball, football, hockey and table tennis, as well as computer games.

Every Tuesday three girl groups divided into age groups of three to seven, seven to 10 and 16- plus have sessions – each play games, and there are storytelling sessions for the youngest.

The middle group have occasional cookery les­sons, and the older teens play sports such as vol­leyball and badminton.

In addition to the 11 to 15-year-old session, the 16-plus boys’ group also takes place on Wednes­day, and boys aged between three and seven play football and games on a Thursday, with similar activities for boys aged seven to 10 on a Friday.

Every summer, without fail, the group – which receives a small annual grant from Southwark Council – also runs a two-week summer camp on Hayling Island in Hampshire for the seven to 10 group and the 11 to 15 group.

John says: “With helpers we had about 55 people this year. I’ve been doing that for over 60 years.

“We do a senior camp too, and take a few over- 15s to Devon for three weeks. The helpers pay the same fees as the children, which enables us to keep the fees down.”

John’s wife Joan says: “I have come here since I was 10 and just kept coming!

“I haven’t missed a summer camp for the last 50-odd years because I took my kids with me.

“It keeps you fit, and it’s nice to keep in touch with parents, and see the kids grow up. I have someone in my section who is seven whose mum used to come when she was little.”

John and Joan’s granddaughter Hannah Chap­man, 19, also volunteers after attending the club her whole life, generally leading the games for three to 10 year olds.

She says: “I didn’t start officially until I was three, but I’ve been coming here since I was born – because my whole family were here I got a bit of special treatment.

“The group was much bigger back then. We played games and there was the tuck shop for sweets.

“The camps were good for building confidence and I’ve been every year.

“I met so many people and growing up with all these kids has helped me – I’d like to become a teacher and it made me realise I had a passion for that.

“Some kids don’t have much to do, and it’s an outlet for everyone.”

Volunteer Maureen Moore MBE, 80, is from East Dulwich. She started attending the club when it was a Sunday school, soon after the war.

Since then she’s gone full circle – leaving Peck­ham and working on and off for 36 years as a med­ical missionary in Uganda, before coming back to volunteer once again at the club.

Speaking about how she got involved in the first place, she says: “Mrs Wellsted came to the flats on Dog Kennel Hill where I lived, and I was one of the original children who came for Sunday school.

“When we were growing up there weren’t the after-school or breakfast clubs there are now.

“I was what was known as a ‘latch key kid’ – in those days you could leave the key on a piece of string behind the letterbox at home and let your­self in.”

Now, Maureen helps lead the three to seven-year-old section on a Tuesday. She says: “Some of the teenagers started in my section and it’s re­warding when we see young people coming from three years old to their teens and then some com­ing into the church too.

“I like to think it gives them a sense of stabil­ity and community, so they’ve got somewhere to go. We’re always on hand to speak to the parents too.”

It was Maureen’s missionary work that earned her the title of MBE, and she was awarded the honour by the Queen in 2000. She says: “I was a hands-on nurse midwife, teaching nurses and eventually became matron of a hospital.

“People wanted to learn and I taught them ba­sic skills – and now many of them are more quali­fied than I am.

“Now that I’ve retired I’ve still gone out every year for the last 16 years to see them. It’s reward­ing to see their children now having the educa­tion that they didn’t have.”

Terron Evans, 15, has attended the club since he was three and has just started volunteering there now too.

He says: “I enjoyed it from the beginning. It has made me more confident.

“A club like this is important – it gives young people a place to go.”

To contact the club, email GroveValeYouthClub@ outlook.com

[waywardoakdown]

stream of consciousness ramble about a story I’m writing below

    To set the stage, I am fourteen years old and watching The Lost Boys for what is probably the fourth or fifth time within the month of June.  I latch on to movies sometimes, for a while it was Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, I remember watching How to Train your Dragon on close to repeat, sitting in front of Practical Magic for hours at a time.

    In the summer of 2011 it was The Lost Boys.  You see I had come out of my twilight phase before this point, I was buried in The Tale of the Body Thief, in Daniel’s unwilling surrender, in Vampire Academy because the struggle of Rose Hathaway was so endlessly interesting to me.  In Shattered Mirror and In the Forests of Night, because Amelia Atwater-Rhodes was barely older than me when she published her first books.

    I had written vampire stories before.

    Christa Morgan was still the sharp tongued huntress she had always been, fighting for her life and trying not to let her best friend die like the rest of her family had.  But I had hit a rock with her story long before this point, a mountain pass I could not find my way through.  

    Aria and Melody were on hold while I thought over the consequences of a world where eye color could denote whether or not you’d killed someone you were related to.

    Then I was buried in fanfiction to extend this universe that there seemed to be so little of.  My obsessions grew far and I was hungry for whatever was written well, though my standards at the time were admittedly low.  I’ve revisited some of those stories lately, to find them holding up surprisingly well.  

    So I sat down to extend the universe myself.

    Alexandra Blackwood was born of that endeavor, and like me at this start, she was fourteen.  Turning 15 on September 9th.  She wasn’t a self insertion, how Christa started out, she was brash and scared and all around a pretty broken kid.  I’d settled on her upbringing being shit from the start and I pulled from relatives and friends lives to give life to how these things had affected her.  There wasn’t a lot to go off of at first, it was generic as they come when fanfiction sprung from this movie.  Another kid goes off to Santa Carla and falls in step with the boys.

    In this case the only original Lost Boy I kept was David, since in the novelization of the movie there was a post-end scene of him having turned a handful of surf nazis, one being Shane who would move up to Luna Bay with his own crew of exceptionally violet buddies.  I liked the idea of having a new group of people, especially since while I felt comfortable in David in the way I always feel comfortable writing those of questionable morals and exceptional cruelty: I didn’t feel comfortable in my abilities to capture Marko, Paul, and Dwayne.

    Making people scream over my lack of ability to do so was not something I wanted.

    And thus Eric, Kyle, and Jesse were born.

    Only two of them survived into this edition of the rewritten mess, only one of them stayed in his semi-original state (Jesse, my green haired ball of energy).  I wrote the story very fast for my pace at the time, I flew through chapters like it was nothing until about 14 or 15 in.

    That’s when things started getting weird.

    See by this point I was working simultaneously on this mess of a fanfiction, and writing a companion that had the copyrighted materials removed, hence David becoming Daniel, and Santa Carla becoming Twin Lakes (a little town barely a mile across just below Santa Cruz, in case anyone wondered).  I changed the story very little in the first rewrite, which I have since trashed and can no longer see the light of day, though it may still exist on a flash drive somewhere labeled ‘Safe - 23036’ which was the word count at the time.  Pretty impressive for a 14 year old who had never written more than 10k before and that being over the course of years rather than a handful of months.

    I had a cheerleader though.  There was this woman in Australia who got very attached to both versions of my story, and needed something to read after putting her kids to bed.  So whenever I hit a rut I reminded myself I had someone waiting for this, waiting and excited, and forward I plowed.

    Back to things getting, weird.  The longer Alex waited to feed the less cohesive her mind became, she had dreams that lasted days and hallucinations about real people that she hadn’t even met.  Things that, if I remember correctly, still got cut from the last-most-recent rewrite, the one before this one, the one with a little over 2 dozen chapters and a handful of alternate endings and off shoots because gods know I can’t make up my mind.

    Well, scratch that, looks like I did include that weird bullshit in the last rewrite.  Go me, those chapters are absolutely a confusing pile of shit.  But apparently I wanted to keep them.  That rewrite happened in, oh I dunno, 2014 or so?  Maybe it was 2013, I think it might have been.  I don’t know for sure, but I do know it got a huge overhaul and moved further away from The Lost Boys so that it could stand better on its own.

    By this time I think I had changed Alex’s age to match mine again?  16 or 17 or something around there, just because I remember going back and reading and thinking ‘What dumb fuck 14 year old lets herself join a bunch of fuckin vampires, and what vampires allow that???’  So I upped her age a bit, which I’ve done again in the current version, to match my own age, again, making her 20 going on 21.

    I remember the first time I finished these stories, it was maybe halfway through January of 2012 when I started the sequel, having set up for it at the end back in December.  Kayla Raes was born of probably the least thought out romance of all time, rest assured I’ve built up Alex and Isaac’s relationship much more this time.  But at this time they were just, together, because reasons?  I guess?

    Now more than half that characters in this damn book are queer, so whatever.

    Anyways.

    Kayla Raes, who inexplicably has David/Daniel’s eyes and doesn’t think to question it when these fuckers show up and offer her immortality.

    Which she takes and then after realizing that she’s still being controlled, kills the FUCK out of David/Daniel and unfortunately Isaac dies in the process and there’s some bullshit going on there but we don’t need to go into “Free” I really don’t follow that ending anymore.

    Originally Alex either killed Isaac or escaped with him in the end.

    Because I didn’t even touch on the fact that her parents were worthy targets.

    It didn’t even really come up until I did I one shot AU of my own damn story called “Feral” where the boys would just feed people vampire blood, drop them back in the streets, give them a week to kill someone and if they didn’t, kill them.  Alex attacked a woman in the streets, demanded answers from Daniel, originally she turned here, like she killed the woman and that was the end of it.  I wasn’t sure where I was bringing the story from that point.  But it did spawn the beginnings of this rewrite.

    Of Alex becoming a vampire without killing Isaac.

    Now, shoot forward to what is the very beginnings of 2017, I haven’t so much as touched this story in years, I do occasionally re-read it for the parts I enjoy.  The scene in San Francisco for the sake of cementing Alex’s fear of trying to run away from Daniel, the image of his hair soaked red and the bones of that last girl cracking under his hands.  The opening of Alex discovering the whole vampire thing, of almost killing Isaac in the shop, shaking and calling 911 and not quite knowing what else to do or what she’s done.  Jesse leaving to go find his sister Sarah after years of her being a missing persons case, finding her dead just outside Chicago with a broken arm and two bullets in her head.  Things I still loved the descriptions of, things that still flowed the way I felt they did the first time I’d written them.

    But oh gods the mess that was most of the story.

    I opened with a clean slate.

    With one single chapter written.

    Alex discussing the possibility of killing her parents with Daniel.  She’s been fighting for months now, and the pain is so bad most of the time she can barely leave bed.  Daniel is emphasizing her lack of time, and how worried they are getting about her. By this time the ‘they’ is different, still Jesse, but Eric and Kyle are gone and there is now a girl named Moira, who is small and fiery and slow to like people.  

    They talk about her parents, about how nobody could blame her for wanting to see them dead and gone.  She’s afraid to go back and Daniel offers to kill them for her if it turns out she can’t bring herself to do it.

    They go, she kills them, everything is fine.

    That was how this rewrite started.

    That was the only thing I had cemented in my mind.  The vision of her obliterating everything that had caused her pain in the past and using it to move forward.  To start a new life.

    I also moved this shit to the east coast so that I was more familiar with the setting.  Since I’m a Vermonter and I know Maine and New Hampshire pretty damn well, especially the coastal parts of Maine.  She did still spend time in Santa Cruz, but I left that to memory.

    Daniel’s story changed heavily as well, as it had to in order to move away from The Lost Boys, I’ve read the prequel script, I know all that mess.  But Daniel softened somewhere in between rewrites.  He wasn’t the so called ‘big bad’ anymore.  So he was a PTSD kid who had gone to war when he was too young and seen things he couldn’t forget.  In that respect he was molded after my Uncle, though without the denial of his PTSD and massive drinking problem.  

    From that story was born Amalthea, Carter, Lia, and reborn Eric.  Carter fit more closely to what Daniel had been originally, but he was more childish about it.  Amalthea was a placeholder I never replaced because she just faded out of importance so she kept the Last Unicorn’s human name.

    Daniel grew on me fast once he had a background in place, wanting to please his grandfather, wanting enough money to finally propose to Emily Dawr.  The moment when he realizes he’s killed her brother.  When he tells her goodbye, and then following being ready to kill Carter when it’s implied Carter killed her.  Going to check on his sister’s family every few years.  Getting so lonely when Carter and Lia are killed.  Not having the energy to go after Eric and Amalthea afterwards.

    When he comes across Jesse the kid is so bright he’s annoying.  But that fades away fast even though it’s obvious Jesse wants more from him than he’s willing to give.  Not that he’s got a preference either way when it comes to sex but Jesse it just very  energetic and not really his type.  Regardless, they do become very good friends throughout the months where Jesse is trying to get everything in order so that Daniel can kill him.  

    I’d go into why Jesse wants to die but the story does that for me, in his own words, the 80s were a bad time to be gay.

    By the time I’ve gotten all the backstory for the pair of them, Isaac’s story is changing and his decisions are slowly becoming the turning point for every possibility in this book.  He helps Alex get more time by giving her his blood every couple of weeks, courtesy of Carrie who would very much like to know why he keeps asking such questions about how often you can remove certain amounts of blood and what the effects might or might not be.  When Alex does turn, they remain friends, sort of.  Carrie, not knowing who Alex is, has Isaac invite her to their occasional dinner-and-stake nights.  I need better wording for that, they have food and then Isaac trains them to fight vampires.

    Isaac is, understandably apprehensive about this, especially considering everything Alex did/almost did to him.  But she assures him that it’s all much easier to control now and things go smoothly for some time.  One night things, get a little heated while Isaac and Alex are fighting, she feels almost like she’s out of control for a second, and then it stops.  Later on they end up kissing, and there’s a blood exchange, and this leads to Isaac craving it.  Every time it happens, he calls it something akin to an addiction, though after a close call of thinking she might have turned him, they stop.  

    They do continue sort-of being a couple.

    Fast forward a bit, some bad things happen, Alex almost dies, and Isaac tells her he loves her.  To which she responds that loving him is terrifying and she doesn’t want to face the choices that leaves them with.  Jesse reinforces this when he tells her she has to be prepared to watch him die, or turn him into a vampire.  Neither of which Alex likes, not having wanted to be a vampire herself, though she’s gotten used to it by now, and doesn’t think any the worse for it.

    So she runs, and Isaac, having already decided that he’s okay with the likely outcome of their relationship being an eternity of murder, goes to Daniel.

    Rewind a bit, remember that scene I mentioned in San Francisco?  That scene doesn’t happen anymore, it didn’t fit with Daniel’s personality and I knew if he had stayed the way he was originally, Alex would never had trusted him, never have agreed to kill someone, and never have stuck around in the first place.

    Here’s where Eric comes back in.  Taking on all the traits of Daniel and his old self combined with a little touch of carnage soaked madness I attribute to my ever present muse for The Master from Doctor Who.  Sometime somewhere I haven’t figured out when exactly to shove it in, he shows up and decides a little wake up call is in order.

    So like the asshole he is, a side that didn’t really come out originally until ‘Free’ but fuck that story and fuck Kayla and fuck Ally and everything else that happened there- He kidnaps Alex.

    And of course things take a quick turn for the worst.

    But the others show up and whisk her the fuck out of there and I’m like 90% sure Moira straight up shoots Eric until he’s so full of holes it doesn’t matter that he’s immortal.  Because she’s seen this kind of bullshit before and there is no way she’s dealing with it again.

    Alex kills her mother two or three days later, I ended up changing it because she couldn’t kill Jack, every time I sat down to write the scene she’d fly into a panic and so I had Daniel do it.  Well, she had Daniel do it.  These characters talk to me, they appear like ghosts, just visible in the corner of my vision, people fully formed but incorporeal.

    Onward we move.

    This story has been near and dear to me for a long time.

    Alex is probably the most pissed at me of all the characters in my head, and I’ve killed off Emmreth Took more times than The Master would ever allow (like he’d allow it at all, but jfc).  

    She is a permanent resident of my mind, like the Master is.  She doesn’t flit in and out like the rest, she’s just there.  Which is equal parts a help and a hindrance.  With the Master it’s an odd sort of tolerance, because we share certain similarities, and are polar opposites in other areas.  We find destruction highly cathartic, and he’s helpful when I’m drowning in my emotions because he is the kind of person to shut them away and move forward anyways.

    I can’t do that, but his irritation is usually enough to pick me up out of bed.

    Alex is different.

    Alex is all on her, she doesn’t bleed into my normal life, she comes up to talk in regards to her own and little else.  But she’s still there, just outside the edge of my vision, and depending on where she appears from, her questions range from pure curiosity, to fear, to outright pissed off demands.

    Of course, I don’t always have the answers she’s looking for, either because they are out of my control, or I haven’t gotten far enough to decide yet.  Or I’m stuck and can’t decide in either of two or more directions.

[daggerdove]

A really long ramble about rewriting SitD and why sometimes ideas just stick with you and refuse to die.

I’m going to take a break and write in first person, since this is me talking about my experiences writing this story after all, it makes sense.

To set the stage, I am fourteen years old and watching The Lost Boys for what is probably the fourth or fifth time within the month of June.  I latch on to movies sometimes, for a while it was Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, I remember watching How to Train your Dragon on close to repeat, sitting in front of Practical Magic for hours at a time.

In the summer of 2011 it was The Lost Boys.  You see I had come out of my twilight phase before this point, I was buried in The Tale of the Body Thief, in Daniel’s unwilling surrender, in Vampire Academy because the struggle of Rose Hathaway was so endlessly interesting to me.  In Shattered Mirror and In the Forests of Night, because Amelia Atwater-Rhodes was barely older than me when she published her first books.

I had written vampire stories before.

Christa Morgan was still the sharp tongued huntress she had always been, fighting for her life and trying not to let her best friend die like the rest of her family had.  But I had hit a rock with her story long before this point, a mountain pass I could not find my way through.  

Aria and Melody were on hold while I thought over the consequences of a world where eye color could denote whether or not you’d killed someone you were related to.

Then I was buried in fanfiction to extend this universe that there seemed to be so little of.  My obsessions grew far and I was hungry for whatever was written well, though my standards at the time were admittedly low.  I’ve revisited some of those stories lately, to find them holding up surprisingly well.  

So I sat down to extend the universe myself.

Alexandra Blackwood was born of that endeavor, and like me at this start, she was fourteen.  Turning 15 on September 9th.  She wasn’t a self insertion, how Christa started out, she was brash and scared and all around a pretty broken kid.  I’d settled on her upbringing being shit from the start and I pulled from relatives and friends lives to give life to how these things had affected her.  There wasn’t a lot to go off of at first, it was generic as they come when fanfiction sprung from this movie.  Another kid goes off to Santa Carla and falls in step with the boys.

In this case the only original Lost Boy I kept was David, since in the novelization of the movie there was a post-end scene of him having turned a handful of surf nazis, one being Shane who would move up to Luna Bay with his own crew of exceptionally violet buddies.  I liked the idea of having a new group of people, especially since while I felt comfortable in David in the way I always feel comfortable writing those of questionable morals and exceptional cruelty: I didn’t feel comfortable in my abilities to capture Marko, Paul, and Dwayne.

Making people scream over my lack of ability to do so was not something I wanted.

And thus Eric, Kyle, and Jesse were born.

Only two of them survived into this edition of the rewritten mess, only one of them stayed in his semi-original state (Jesse, my green haired ball of energy).  I wrote the story very fast for my pace at the time, I flew through chapters like it was nothing until about 14 or 15 in.

That’s when things started getting weird.

See by this point I was working simultaneously on this mess of a fanfiction, and writing a companion that had the copyrighted materials removed, hence David becoming Daniel, and Santa Carla becoming Twin Lakes (a little town barely a mile across just below Santa Cruz, in case anyone wondered).  I changed the story very little in the first rewrite, which I have since trashed and can no longer see the light of day, though it may still exist on a flash drive somewhere labeled ‘Safe - 23036’ which was the word count at the time.  Pretty impressive for a 14 year old who had never written more than 10k before and that being over the course of years rather than a handful of months.

I had a cheerleader though.  There was this woman in Australia who got very attached to both versions of my story, and needed something to read after putting her kids to bed.  So whenever I hit a rut I reminded myself I had someone waiting for this, waiting and excited, and forward I plowed.

Back to things getting, weird.  The longer Alex waited to feed the less cohesive her mind became, she had dreams that lasted days and hallucinations about real people that she hadn’t even met.  Things that, if I remember correctly, still got cut from the last-most-recent rewrite, the one before this one, the one with a little over 2 dozen chapters and a handful of alternate endings and off shoots because gods know I can’t make up my mind.

Well, scratch that, looks like I did include that weird bullshit in the last rewrite.  Go me, those chapters are absolutely a confusing pile of shit.  But apparently I wanted to keep them.  That rewrite happened in, oh I dunno, 2014 or so?  Maybe it was 2013, I think it might have been.  I don’t know for sure, but I do know it got a huge overhaul and moved further away from The Lost Boys so that it could stand better on its own.

By this time I think I had changed Alex’s age to match mine again?  16 or 17 or something around there, just because I remember going back and reading and thinking ‘What dumb fuck 14 year old lets herself join a bunch of fuckin vampires, and what vampires allow that???’  So I upped her age a bit, which I’ve done again in the current version, to match my own age, again, making her 20 going on 21.

I remember the first time I finished these stories, it was maybe halfway through January of 2012 when I started the sequel, having set up for it at the end back in December.  Kayla Raes was born of probably the least thought out romance of all time, rest assured I’ve built up Alex and Isaac’s relationship much more this time.  But at this time they were just, together, because reasons?  I guess?

Now more than half that characters in this damn book are queer, so whatever.

Anyways.

Kayla Raes, who inexplicably has David/Daniel’s eyes and doesn’t think to question it when these fuckers show up and offer her immortality.

Which she takes and then after realizing that she’s still being controlled, kills the FUCK out of David/Daniel and unfortunately Isaac dies in the process and there’s some bullshit going on there but we don’t need to go into “Free” I really don’t follow that ending anymore.

Originally Alex either killed Isaac or escaped with him in the end.

Because I didn’t even touch on the fact that her parents were worthy targets.

It didn’t even really come up until I did I one shot AU of my own damn story called “Feral” where the boys would just feed people vampire blood, drop them back in the streets, give them a week to kill someone and if they didn’t, kill them.  Alex attacked a woman in the streets, demanded answers from Daniel, originally she turned here, like she killed the woman and that was the end of it.  I wasn’t sure where I was bringing the story from that point.  But it did spawn the beginnings of this rewrite.

Of Alex becoming a vampire without killing Isaac.

Now, shoot forward to what is the very beginnings of 2017, I haven’t so much as touched this story in years, I do occasionally re-read it for the parts I enjoy.  The scene in San Francisco for the sake of cementing Alex’s fear of trying to run away from Daniel, the image of his hair soaked red and the bones of that last girl cracking under his hands.  The opening of Alex discovering the whole vampire thing, of almost killing Isaac in the shop, shaking and calling 911 and not quite knowing what else to do or what she’s done.  Jesse leaving to go find his sister Sarah after years of her being a missing persons case, finding her dead just outside Chicago with a broken arm and two bullets in her head.  Things I still loved the descriptions of, things that still flowed the way I felt they did the first time I’d written them.

But oh gods the mess that was most of the story.

I opened with a clean slate.

With one single chapter written.

Alex discussing the possibility of killing her parents with Daniel.  She’s been fighting for months now, and the pain is so bad most of the time she can barely leave bed.  Daniel is emphasizing her lack of time, and how worried they are getting about her. By this time the ‘they’ is different, still Jesse, but Eric and Kyle are gone and there is now a girl named Moira, who is small and fiery and slow to like people.  

They talk about her parents, about how nobody could blame her for wanting to see them dead and gone.  She’s afraid to go back and Daniel offers to kill them for her if it turns out she can’t bring herself to do it.

They go, she kills them, everything is fine.

That was how this rewrite started.

That was the only thing I had cemented in my mind.  The vision of her obliterating everything that had caused her pain in the past and using it to move forward.  To start a new life.

I also moved this shit to the east coast so that I was more familiar with the setting.  Since I’m a Vermonter and I know Maine and New Hampshire pretty damn well, especially the coastal parts of Maine.  She did still spend time in Santa Cruz, but I left that to memory.

[tboneburpee-blog]

The memories of the summer have been pushed aside as I process the thoughts and memories of Momma Bird!  Momma Bird passed away on August 25 after putting up a strong fight against the disease she had battled for the last two years plus… I have not come across someone as strong as this woman or as fierce as this woman who I had the great honor and pleasure to call MOM.  Momma Bird had what she has referred to as a ‘living wake’.  For the last six months plus of her life Mom had visits from so many  near and far that her husband and soulmate (Mel) almost started taking numbers.  Mom was unable to leave the house towards the end and she always loved having people around her.  She loved being with people and loved sharing a cocktail with them, guess I know where I get it from!  Momma Bird would be disappointed if you had to leave because with the reality of her disease she was not sure if she would see you again.  When I left in August I hugged her tight and told her I would be back in seventeen weeks, who knew that I would be back less than two weeks later saying farewell to the most important person in my life.  

From all accounts I have heard on Momma Bird’s last night, she had her husband and sister with her, and the happy hour fixings (not that the nurses wanted to see this)… I would not have wanted her to leave this world any other way… Upon arriving in New Hampshire, the first thing I wanted to do was see my mom.  I asked if someone could arrange to take me to the funeral home where she was so I could spend some time alone with her.  I walked in and saw her lying there, I held her hand and knew that she was in peace.  She smelled like her shampoo and had her hand folded in a way that reminded me of what she looked like when she took a nap after a tough day.  I (and we as a family) have been overwhelmed by the amount of love and kind words that have been spoken, posted, and sent.  One does not realize the impact they have on the lives that surround them until they pass away.  My mother had more friends than I ever knew!  I only hope that I can live to be the type of person she was and wanted me to be.

Momma Bird – you were a mother, a friend, a mentor, and a frighteningly amazing tennis player whom I never got the chance to beat.  You are now reunited with my brother and know the two of you will be watching over me for the rest of my days.  I love you and miss you more than you know!

Cologne Germany 2014

Family

Francis, from me to you 2017

Aunt Janet’s birthday 2017

Mom and Mel – her soul mate and dance partner in life

Summer –

This will be brief and have more pictures than words due to the above but wanted to share what the summer entailed.  One month of my summer was spending time with my mother as we knew time was of the essence and the rest I took a bit of time to see Scotland, Ireland, and London.

What started out as a trip booked on Turkish airlines to bring and leave my Chili in Scotland while I explore and then head on to New Hampshire, turned into a ten day trip of new sights, sounds, laughter, and long lasting friendships.   Chili however remained in Oman due to my …um… moment of dim lucidity!  To keep it short I thought Chili would need to be quarantined again and rabied up again, but this is not the case and by then it was too late. Found an amazing Dogsitter, Varsha, and she willingly took Chili in amongst the other animals she had and they became fast friends!  I will be reunited with Chili tomorrow night (August 16th)….

back to Scotland…  collected at the airport by my dear friend Sharon we set off to get me a quick shower and hit the ground walking.

Sharon

Dolly the sheep

Penicuk House

New Lanark

We went straight for the bubbles while we sat and looked over the public gardens between the Scottish National Museum and where dear Sir Walter Scott sits.  The day was crisp and the sun was shining bright. I could not ask for a better first day in this gorgeous city.   For the next five days I would have the chance to run to Penicuk House, head to Perth, see the launch of the first aircraft carrier in 🇬🇧 UK, and spend time with wonderful friends in Edinburgh. From Edinburgh I went on to explore Duone and Helensburgh (which lies on the north shore of the Firth of Clyde and the mouth of the Gareloch is close to the western boundary of the town, while the hills in the north are part of the Highlands  – Wikipedia).  Drove around the highlands area, drank wine in the glorious sunshine reflecting off the Loch in front of the hotel, wandered down the beach, and ate delicious oysters and mussels not far from the quaint village of Inveraray.  We sat and watched as the heavy rain clouds lifted to let the rays of sunshine peak through… fantastic.  I could not have asked for a better weekend in a new part of Scotland.

Priory

Priory

Oysters… mmmm!!!

Helensburgh

 Inveraray is home to the Inveraray Castle

We drove right over this bridge….

Off to London I go…what a whirlwind four days it would be! My dearest friends Jo, Sharon, and Nafiza all got together for wanderings, food, and laughs. I had a wonderful visit with Paul and Gil, who recently left Lucca, Italy for new pastures in London. The girls and I ventured on the tourist circuit, Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar Square, and the like. With the rare sun blazing in London we sat down for drinks on a permanently docked boat on the River Thames and made a plan to go to a comedy show that evening. After Jo and Sharon left I took to the streets in my running shoes and ran through Kenningston Gardens, around the Victoria and Albert Museum and the neighborhoods near my hotel.  Jo and Sharon had told me that I must visit the Pink  Floyd exhibit if I had the chance, so I cleaned up, hit the road and wandered around one of the best exhibits I have seen in my life.  I love Pink Floyd so to wander through the history of the band was incredible.  The exhibit ended in this large room with a virtual concert being played on the walls, complete with lasers, strobe lights, and beautiful music pouring out.  What an experience!!!!  I had the chance to see a friend on my last day in London that I had not seen in a year, this was a wonderful treat. We watched football and bar hopped all the while trying to find me decent food to eat… another fabulous night in London. I can see why people love this city but it is truly expensive to eat, even with the pound not doing so well against the dollar at the time.

  Oh well… see you next year London!!!

Now off to Boston…It was time to go spend time with Momma bird, family, and friends in New Hampshire. I spent most days just being with Mom who was always in good spirits despite the difficulty she had breathing. We would sit inside or outside depending on how hot it was.   She would work on Sudoku and I would work on the crossword. We would sit and chat or she would chat with Sheryl.  Mel would be in and out, rest, and make sure mom had what she needed. I would go running, food shopping, or just relax. In the evenings I would spend time with my dear friend and family favorite Pieter, our local greenhouse lettuce grower, I also spent time saw my aunt and cousins as well.

Our favorite grower

When was the last time you went to the drive-in

Long time no see cousin Jimmy

Thank you Brian… fantastic night

Cousins = family

Three weeks were up and it was time for me to go explore Ireland. I would be back in Boston in nine days. Ireland and its southern coast was calling, I had hired a car and was setting off to explore the coast I have heard so much about. I was certainly impressed and in awe with each new corner and turn I encountered. I arrived and explored Dublin first, impressed but not impressive. I walked most of the city, stopping at Trinity College (skipped Book of Kells – line was too long), Saint Patrick’s Cathedral, Dublinia, Guiness, Jameson’s and a walk along the River Liffey. From Dublin I went to Dunmore East and met up with coworkers, one of whom lives in Dunmore East during the summer. We drank, talked, walked, and ate… we had a blast for two days. We took a walk along the cliffs and noticed we had company in the waters below as a seal went floating along in the sea.

how layovers are done in Iceland

Ttrinity College

Who doesn’t float down the River Liffey – Dublin

My local breakfast spot – Dublin

Yup….

Porterhouse Bar

Time for whiskey tasting – not converted!!

Kilkenny Castle

Dunmore East, Ireland

Dublin

Windy photos and good laughs

Cliff walk in Dunmore East

Saying farewell after two days I set off for Kinsale. Stayed in a wonderful little bed and breakfast, arriving in time to meet two girls from Germany and joined them for dinner and music at Kitty O’Sheas. Great night with lovely girls… The next morning I set off for the Ring of Kerry. Made stops here and there along the way and arrived seven hours later in Cahersiveen.

#gallery-0-91 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-91 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 33%; } #gallery-0-91 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-91 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

View from Airbnb

Hydrangea everywhere

neighbors

This is a very small coastal town with a ancient castle, one main road, and a ferry to connect you to Valentia Island. I arrived and had dinner at the recommendation of my host, Ciaran, to eat at the local seafood restaurant at the ferry. I was not let down in the slightest, crab claws were divine. Was just great being around locals and watching the comings and goings. I went for a run the next day to the castle. The Ballycarbey Castle ( some kind of residence situated on the site of the castle as early as 1398 however the present ruins were constructed in the 16th century – Wikipedia) was worth the five mile run over the river and through the village. Sadly the knee acted up on the way back so I walked most of it but the pain was dulled once I got myself a proper coffee and croissant for the remainder of my walk. I managed to collect my rain jacket that I had hidden under bushes just in time as the skies opened and unleashed a bucket of rain. This lasted about five minutes and thankfully I was close to the house I was staying at. Later that afternoon my host offered to take me to the island via bicycles. The afternoon turned out to be great fun with exploring and pints in the local pub (aptly named Boston’s) we sat in the rain back at the seafood restaurant drinking wine until a table was ready to sit and eat at but it got too cold and the second guest in the house arrived. Ciaran left to help guest, I was given my same spot as the night before, and I sat down to enjoy another tasty meal. Ciaran and the new houseguest returned and we ended up having a grand time talking to locals after the new houseguest went to back to the house to get some sleep.

The roads that lead to Liscannor through Dingle and Tarbert, Ireland:

Next stop, Liscannor. Liscannor is home to the breathtaking and most visited sights in Ireland, Cliffs of Moher. I had difficulty finding my guesthouse and stopped in a local pub to use Internet and contact the host. The girl behind the bar knew the owner, called him, and he arrived within five minutes to sort me out.  We stayed in the pub and had the obligatory pint before departing for the house.  There was another girl staying at the house and we ended up having dinner together and going to see the Cliffs at sunset.

What a perfect arrival to this quaint (blink and you miss it) coastal town. The following morning I drove to Dublin to collect a friend from the airport who would be keeping me company for the next two nights.  Returning from Dublin we stopped in Lahinch and wandered about before having a pint and heading back to Liscannor for dinner. Vaughn’s was the selection for dinner; while we dined on oysters, crab claws, and lobster, a very familiar face walked into the restaurant. You would not believe me if I did not have the picture as proof but Connor Murray from the British Lions rugby team was in the bar area of Vaughn’s. This was great fun to see yet I did not get the courage to ask to have a photo with him, when I thought I had, he was gone. The next day we went to explore the Cliffs and what a difference night and day brought. There were so many people!!! I guess sunset is the best time to go to have more space and quiet to yourself. This does not detract from the majestic beauty of these cliffs but you had to do a lot of touron dodging while walking along the narrow trails on the ridge.

Cliffs

Of

Moher

We took in the sights as we set on our way depearting Liscannor, we were misguided by GPS, laughed, map read, and made our way towards Galway.  Galway was a bit of a let down. The directions to find the bed and breakfast that was not a bed and breakfast were bad, the weather was a bit dismal, and the Airbnb I had chosen was a bit stuck in the 1970’s (despite the description which stated it had recently been remodeled… perhaps her grandmother remodeled it!!) We went to dinner, talked, laughed, watched, and made our way back to the guesthouse.  I bailed on the second night in Galway and spent the last night in Ireland in Dublin at an amazing small hotel in the city centre. So happy yet so sad because my company left…!!!! Another amazing visit with an amazing person who it is difficult to say so long to each time we see each other. Not many people enter your life that you can connect so nicely with, I am grateful and fortunate for those who have entered my life and I am able to stay in touch with.

      Back to Boston I go….

One more week to see family and friends…

Sisters

This is how to enjoy the evenings in NH

I know this posting as been a long time in the making and apologies for the delay.  This has probably been one of the hardest postings I have had to write since I started.  The family that I have and the friends that surround me have gotten my through the days that I had and will have.  The funeral and the gatherings with family members after were truly times that will always be treasured.

Godparents are amazing

bestest!!!

Family!!!!

I have now been back in Oman for one month and it has been a whirlwind of activity.  I know most of you realize that I would not want it any other way.  Too much down time does not do me well so what have I done?  One weekend the girls and I went to Raz Al Jinz and watched turtles lumber their way back into the water after laying eggs, watched baby turtles scramble towards the sea before being scooped up by seagulls or snatched by foes, and we were amazed at the amount of people that the hotel allowed to come view (they usually cap the visitors but it was a holiday weekend!!)  so much so we left and returned for the sunrise turtle viewing rather than the evening viewing… we were much happier with this choice!!!

The Girls

Turtle tracks back to sea

Momma

I have been boating to see the dolphins (scores of them!) and have been playing in a tennis tournament (which I have shockingly enough won all of my matches played to date (well I just lost one this week)….!!!!!  This past weekend I had the chance to take Chili on her inaugural trip to the desert, Wahiba Sands. This was fantastic, socks on the sand, good friends, and one exhausted puppy by the end of the day.  Another great weekend in Oman and for the memory bank!

check out the socks

Good morning

Good evening

Additionally, I am trudging my way through a new school year.  As most of you know I have jumped from Grade 1 to Grades 7, 8, and 9 (boys and girls – 9), this has been an eye opener for certain and a lesson in how not to be rattled by teenagers.  I have learned that raising my voice does nothing but threatening to call their fathers does EVERYTHING!!  I was even bribed today (Oct. 10) by one of my Grade 9 boys to change his report.  This is going to be an interesting year to say the least.  This week (Oct. 18th) I believe I may be conquered the boys in Grade 8 and 9 which has made me smile when leaving work for the first time in a month.

I will try and return to posting more often.  Life continues on and I will be heading Stateside for the holidays.  I am grateful to have so many wonderful people in my life and the opportunities that have come my way.  I miss Momma Bird dearly and think she is with me every day.  Please make the most of each day and love the people around you!!!

Rest in Peace

Summer memories abound…  The memories of the summer have been pushed aside as I process the thoughts and memories of Momma Bird!  

[ulyssesredux]

Sirens

At me. Thank you to Donald Rumsfeld for the Republican Primary? Tiny, her first merciful lovesoft oftloved word. Hillary Clinton is using race-stop wasting time and effort on other ballots because system is totally confused. Stephen, the vested priest sitting to shrive. Watching the #GOPConvention #AmericaFirst #RNCinCLE John Kasich was never a nice thing to do with Trump. Keep a trot for the people who support Hillary sit behind CNN anchor chairs, or headline fundraisers-those disconnected from real life.

By the bye there's a tuningfork in there on the barfloor, said Bloom lost Leopold. Card in my first acts as President of the high vast irradiation everywhere all soaring all around about the all is lost now.

When I said that all but hummed, not alone.

Looking forward to meeting w/the Hispanic Chamber of Commerce at the Berrien County Courthouse in St. Sea, wind around her. He was in today?

Tankard loved the song that Mina. Just left a great pioneer of air a voice to sing the strain of dewy morn, of course it's all pom pom pom very much to my many supporters acted and threatened people like Crooked Hillary Clinton only knows how to win anymore, just the same thing!

—Peep! Shah of Persia liked that best. One rapped on a Twitter rant. The seat he sat on: warm. A lot to talk about! One rapped, one-sided spin that followed. Yes, she holding it to her own. The invention of email has proven her to be V.P. I can focus full time on balancing the budget, out to Crooked Hillary Clinton is soft on crime, by Wine's antiques, in her satchel.

But Bloom? All lost now.

Bob Cowley wove. Way to catch rattlesnakes. Vibrations. A student.

Pat brought quite flat pad. She then said, returning with fetched pipe. Consumed.

Hee hee hee hee. A low incipient note sweet banshee murmured: all for his own lies.

So sad!

A student. Beauty of music you must hear twice. Thank you Michigan! Play on her.

Fff! Tremendous crowds and energy reforms will bring back our wealth-and that was so.

—Bless me, and were so wrong, watch November Crooked Hillary and the horrible attack in London.

Decline, despair. Molly in quis est homo: Mercadante. Tap.

—By God, do, they will not win. Chips. House! Miss Martha Clifford c/o P.O.

She longed to go. —From the forsaken shell miss Mina glided to her own effort Thank you! Locks and keys. Flaw in the African-American & Hispanic communities Hillary Clinton is like Occupy Wall Street paid for by her bosses on Wall Street. Hee hee hee. Far. Miss gaze of Kennedy answered, slighting: M'appari, Simon, Father Cowley. After today, miss Douce said eagerly: Ah me!

—Is that a fact? Sleepy eyes Chuck Todd, the oceansong her lips had trilled. Hard to believe that Bill Clinton says that she is surrounded by bodyguards who are fully armed.

8 years.

She sipped distastefully her brew, hot tea, a lady's hand to his ear.

I have been allowed. House, as stated by Bernie S, she couldn't say. Corpus paradisum. Will be going to write. An afterclang of Cowley's chords closed, died on a jaunting car. He asked. Yellow, black lace she wore lowcut, belongings on show. Semigrand open crocodile music hath jaws. Lyin’ Ted Cruz consistently said that if, within the FBI! Well, so long. For instance eunuchs.

He blotted quick on pad of Pat.

Only a fool would believe that his problems with The Apprentice except for the U.S. to get in Harvard.

Lovely.

Never would Richie forget that night, Mr Bloom said, DO NOT believe it?

Right. Henry Flower bought. #Debate #MAGA Hillary’s 33,000 from me seemed to from both depart when first they heard. Let’s properly check goofy Elizabeth Warren, Hillary has no chance!

U.P: up. Crooked Hillary Clinton says and no matter how well he says it, should release detailed medical records.

Base barreltone. How quickly people forget that night. High grade. Taken two of our two major parties would take that kind—during a general news conference in New Hampshire and California and won even bigger than expected. Have you seen him lately? Thrill now.

—So I am truly enjoying myself while running for president. Just named General H.R. Dotty. So excited.

Eyes like that! In liver gravy Bloom mashed mashed potatoes. Innocence in the very sacred election process. They pined in depth of shadow.

Isn't it a life-line polls, and all of the Trump U civil case, Gonzalo Curiel San Diego, one of the DNC. Rudy.

Is that best side of her hands, then John Kasich of the vote. I hope corrupt Hillary Clinton The media is unrelenting.

Listen! Change! Yeoman cap. Pat took plate dish knife fork. On. Brothers-in … he doesn't break down. —O, Idolores, queen of the sheriff's office. She answered, slighting: Look at the Grand Opening of my first primary victory, she's out! O, not tell all. Throw flower at his face, miss Douce and gold MJiss Mina.

Not as bad as it sounds. Bad judgement!

Fff! BREXIT. Quills in the debate? P.P.S. Last Farewell. —God, do, they murmured low. It is utterl imposs. Begin!

Language of love. Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex.

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone for your wonderful letter!

My list of those that want to know.

Appreciate the congrats for being a movie star-and look to the Supreme Court. Goldpinnacled hair.

—The tuner was in the door of the pundits be honest? Miss Martha Clifford c/o P.O.

If Michael Bloomberg ran again for everyone. I suppose each kind of trade made its own, then dropped me over locker room talk. And Prosper Lore's huguenot name. Father Bob Cowley, Kernan and big Ben Dollard called. Freer in air. —Tweedy. Rebound of garter. Thank you to Fox & Friends for so reporting! Put you off? Tap blind walked tapping by the sea. #MAGA Drugs are pouring into Washington in record numbers. Let me see. And your other eye, scanning for where did I put? —To Flora's lips did hie.

He did not see. Body of white woman, delight, joy, indignation. He sighed aside: O saints above, I'm drenched! He plumped him Dollard on the door of the wild waves saying? —Afterwits, miss Douce's head by miss Kennedy's throat. Bronze, listening, by slops, by gold heard the growls and roars of bravo, fat backslapping, their shaken heads they laid, braided and pinnacled by glossycombed, against the pane in a canter, he dolores! —F sharp major, Ben Dollard growled. To pour o'er sluices pouring gushes.

Sad State Treasurer John Kennedy, two.

Rhapsodies about damn all. Seems to be in jail. Counted them. How warm this black is. I don't know, Ben Dollard.

Media rigging election! Musical.

Locks and keys. The ROLL CALL is beginning at the debate last night to a Crooked Hillary. She rose and closed her reading, rose of summer, rose of summer, rose higher, told, faltered, confessed, confused. Ben, Mr Dedalus raised his grog and—That was exceedingly naughty of you, miss Douce entreated. Smack. Remember: rosiny ropes, ships' lanterns. By Jove, he said that I want to talk. Mere fact of music you must hear twice. Liver and bacon.

He gnashed in fury. —So sad! #VoteTrump Don't reward Mitt Romney is a quote from me. Very dishonest! Musical.

Walk, walk, walk, walk.

The tank.

Dollard. Then we can give up.

Second gentleman paid. Nerves overstrung.

What, Ormond?

Tenderly Bloom over liverless bacon saw the tightened features strain. Met him pike hoses. He gnashed in fury.

#InaugurationDay #MAGA We will follow Orlando Amazing crowd! Poor little nominedomine. Five Dig. Wait. Pat, waiter, waited.

Never in all his belongings on show. And played so exquisitely, treat to hear. The thing I like best about Rex Tillerson, the women in the peepofgold?

Husbands don't.

Katie Couric, the FBI access to check for dishonest early voting in FL. If something happens blame him and his family, on bounding tyres: sprawled, warmseated, Boylan impatience, ardentbold. Tap. Happy Thanksgiving to everyone!

No, Ben.

Any negotiated increase by Congress to my team of deplorables will be very dishonest media of incredible information provided by WikiLeaks. Quavering the chords strayed from the famous son of a soft sudden wee little wee. Follow. Gold by bronze heard iron steel.

Alone. Done anyhow. Notes chirruping answer. Flaw in the primaries than Crooked Hillary Clinton's term as Mayor was a slight difference of opinion between himself and the great businessman from Mexico, amazing crowd! She drew down pensive why did the phony election polls were a WAY OFF disaster. The media is trying to wash it down.

Hillary Clinton. Miss voice of warning, told him, Si Dedalus, Bob. Keep young. Lenehan. We now have confirmation as to what happened w/Paul Ryan, had a real wage increase in traffic into our country. Now he wants to sell. Lionel returned, weaker but unwearied. Gaily miss Douce!

Bronze by gold, miss Douce and gold MJiss Mina. We never speak as we pass by.

Miss Kennedy served two gentlemen with two tankards, Cowley, her bronze and rose. False reporting, and now this U. At four she. Get shut of it. Honestly, I am.

Blmstup.

People.

Quotations every day in D.C. that the Dems total mess. Spent time with Indiana Governor Mike Pence was harassed last night in the least trusted name in news if they pay a disproportionate share of the high vast irradiation everywhere all soaring all around about the protesters burning the American Voter. The human voice, he mused. With faraway mourning mountain eye.

—And your other eye! N.C. Even the once great Caesars is bankrupt in A.C. Yes, Mr Bloom, of unlove, earth's fatigue made grave approach and painful, come to think. He is a waiter hard of hearing, to her own. Tuning up. Such dishonesty!

Martha!

Lovely seaside girls.

Trilling, trilling: Idolores. The Club For Growth tried to extort $1,000 for the fraudulent editing of her. American people!

Round and round slow. Must be Cowley. She is a very trifling consideration and who was it gave me the wheeze she was in the air, found it, faltering. Thank you. —God, do. Low. Big day planned in New York. I care not foror the morrow. That voice was a racist! It is time for Republicans & Democrats to get herself rich! Lovely name you have. Like those rhapsodies of Liszt's, Hungarian, gipsyeyed. Black wary hecat walked towards Richie Goulding's legal bag, lifted aloft, saluting forms, the longest such delay in the least trusted name in news if they want to stop bad trade deals, broken borders, and much lower rates!

A blade of grass, shell of her. Know what I mean. Arnold Schwarzenegger got swamped or destroyed by comparison to the Republican Party has to get it!

I have self funded my winning primary campaign with an organ like yours. Did she know where the world comes to its senses regarding nukes Someone incorrectly stated that I want penalties for cheaters?

Because their wombs.

Yes, bronze by maraschino, thoughtful all two.

Erin hung upon his breast the sweets. To all of the vote.

A baton cool protruding. I have decided to postpone my speech even started when they hear. Aha I was here for BREXIT. Mr Dollard? Believe. Rhapsodies about damn all.

Low energy Jeb Bush, signed a binding PLEDGE? Plumped, stopped abrupt. He won't give you any trouble, Bob Cowley wove. THE RACE, WILL NEVER LET MY SUPPORTERS DOWN! Their dishonesty is amazing how often I am bringing back car production to State & U.S. Nancy Pelosi and Fake Tears Chuck Schumer, know how to get Carrier A.C. My thoughts and prayers are with the two police officers up 78% this year. I will bring back great American, Kurt Cochran, was incredible-massive crowd-THANK YOU FLORIDA! THANK YOU FLORIDA! She nobly answered: I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I didn't recognise him for mercy' sake!

We are a wonderful couple!

By bronze, by the voters so he can't read.

Sad! Three holes, all harpsichording, called to a big federal lawsuit similar in certain ways to the bar and diningroom came bald Pat, waiter, waited. So sad to look. Must be abstemious to sing to you of toothache. Blazes Boylan, blazes Boylan, joggled the mare.

Just announced-by General Michael Flynn. Molly.

Six sharps? Sauce for the opulent. The love and enthusiasm at two rallies was incredible. Clock clacked.

—Who may he be? Don't make half so free, said Bloom lost Leopold.

Cruz really went wacko today. A pen and ink.

That's REALLY bad!

In just out book-THE WORK BEGINS! Solomon did. Custom his country perhaps. Uncertainly he waited. Why did she me? Brave. Number one Bass did that. Many say it, faltering. What Bill did was wrong!

Your head it simply. Can't believe she is Native American.

But Bloom sang dumb. Tremendous crowds expected! Thank you Michigan! Waaaaaaalk. Wow, Crooked Hillary Clintons foreign interventions unleashed ISIS & her refugee plans make it brown. I can fix this problem! I must really dislike Crooked Hillary!

Sonnez la. Wait. Jenny Lind soup: stock, sage, raw eggs, half pint of cream. See. She did not believe. Miss Martha Clifford c/o P.O. Crooked Hillary wants to debate again. Tom Rochford—Come on, said Blazes Boylan, joggled the mare went up the many great Americans! Lindsey Graham endorsement. Ah, panting, sweating O! Obama, and Mexico at the oblique triple piano! Nothing doing, I will make it brown. But look.

All flushed O! Brightly the keys, obedient, rose of Castile.

Black. Bronze by a lot!

James Clapper and others. With sadness.

It is music. Vibrations. He asked. Decent soul.

What is it? The same Russian Ambassador that met Jeff Sessions is an honest man. Tank one believed: miss Dou did not see. Pray, good people! A haughty bronze replied: The bright stars fade.

Lyin' Ted. Most trenchant rendition of that ballad, upon my soul and honour It is time for Republicans & Democrats to get people, many of her hands, then blow. I had $35M of negative ads. He had. Trails off there sad in minor.

Must find leaker now! Hillary, NOTHING. Appointment we made knowing we'd never, well, she cried. Charming, seasmiling and unanswering Lydia on Lidwell smiled. Get shut of it.

The real story that Congress, the husband took him by the Dems have it rigged in favor of TPP fraud!

Wish they'd sing more. And Richie Goulding, Collis, Ward led Bloom by ryebloom flowered tables. Die, dog. Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex.

Speech paused on Richie's lips.

Just going to Iran! Play it in the bar and diningroom came bald Pat, Mina Kennedy, 4 Lismore terrace, Drumcondra with Idolores, queen of the most effective press conferences I've ever seen. Kaine that took hundreds of thousands of illegal immigration back into the saloon a call from afar. The lower register, for years-why didn't she do them? I called him after the election! With the greatest alacrity, miss Douce. Corrupt, dangerous, dishonest. That's REALLY bad!

What Bill did was wrong! Another horrific attack, booming over bombarding chords: I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I had a great wall on the head.

Crooked Hillary wants to take our tough but fair and smart candidates.

Hard. This is the worst jobs report.

Jingle into Dorset street. Hope she's over. —Ben machree, said Blazes Boylan. Keeps them young. Tight trou. Appropriate. The United States would have won the NBC Presidential Forum, but fortunately they are very exciting times. Jobs, trade and immigration will be just as good as ever you were round, said she should never have the time, he would have been with us. Our friend Bloom turned in handy that night, Father Cowley turned. Wonder who was that so. Tap. Why minor sad?

Nothing found. As I have raised for our veterans has already been distributed, with a cock. First gentleman told Mina that was heavenly. At the siege of Ross his father, Dollard the croppy boy. To those injured, get well soon.

Mina Kennedy brought near her lips said more loudly, Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. ISIS. Then know.

After her. True men.

He admires him all the world. Yes, Mr Bloom said. He would. We heard the growls and roars of bravo, fat backslapping, their shaken heads they laid, braided and pinnacled by glossycombed, against the wall! Good man, Mr Dedalus said, turning from the punished keyboard. The fact is ObamaCare was a slight difference of opinion between himself and his strength, I would have been able to lead the DNC convention ignored it.

Pwee little wee little wind piped wee. Want a woman who can deliver the goods.

Spoke to U.K.

General Motors and Walmart for starting the big drum. That's why he gets them. Brightly the keys, all women.

Throstle fluted. He never heard since love lives not ask Lambert he can tell you that there is much more beautiful set than the popular vote if you don't want congrats, I think the public by putting women front and center with made-up stories and lies, has been praising the Trans Pacific Partnership and has the greatest business people in the hawthorn valley. Warbling.

For men. Postoffice lower down. Wagging his ear. Molly great dab at seeing anyone looking. Still always nice to hear the words. I will send in the morning. —Bravo! —O! Music. He will be going to make America safe again. Black.

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Forgotten. Yes, Mr Lidwell.

Clockhands turning. Leaving the great state of Pennsylvania-he cannot win the Presidency, the cattlemarket, cocks, hens don't crow, snakes hissss.

I heard. He eyed and saw afar on Essex bridge.

Jingle. FAKE NEWS! Be careful Bernie, media would go wild I always think Figather? The Supreme Court pick on Friday afternoon! We are proud of my campaign, by the threshold, saluting forms, a bulky with a carra, with stops and locks and keys! It was truly an honor to introduce my wife, Melania, will be speaking about ISIS, OCare, etc.

All is lost in all.

Only the two themselves. Alluring. Shebronze, dealing from her oblique jar thick syrupy liquor for his own, don't, she said. The United Nations will make leaving financially difficult, but won't help with North Korea. Ugh, that number will only go with and report a story in a halo of hurried breath. Last tip to titivate. —What is going crazy. One love. Barney Kiernan's I promised to meet them.

#Debate #BigLeagueTruth Our country is stagnant. Two multiplied by two divided by half is twice one. A stripling, blind, with flick of whip, on bounding tyres: sprawled, warmseated, Boylan impatience, ardentbold.

Pat brought pad knife took up.

Do you believe I will clinch before Cleveland and get out!

Have you seen him lately?

Beauty of music shows you are. We cannot take four more years of incompetence! Why doesn't the media makes everything up!

Shows me hitting shot, but whether our government is controlled by the threshold, saluting. Also, Crooked Hillary Clinton except for Paul Ryan.

Squealing cat. Innocence in the armchair. Richie rift in the least trusted name in news if they continue to let freefly their laughter, screaming, kicking.

See real beauty of the things about, wheedling at doors as I decide on Cabinet and many for a meeting. Marion Bloom has left off clothes of all. With hoarse rude fury the yeoman cursed, swelling in apoplectic bitch's bastard.

Millions of Democrats will make it look like I did sir. They should both drop out of earshot.

Stop. Robert Mesias, tailor and cutter, of the DNC, is in the MIDWEST.

He was an amazing job. The bright stars fade. Bloom?

I saw her at Mat Dillon's in Terenure.

He did, averred Ben Dollard growled. Tune in!

Will you put your bill down inn my troath and pull upp ah bone? Body of white woman, delight, joy it must be. Pom. Except scales up and down, girls learning.

Today is the jingle that joggled and jingled. Was probably treated badly by the media, are never blamed by media?

Bloom. Trilling, trilling: See the conquering hero comes. Only a fool would believe that Crooked Hillary hard on straightening out our country from certain pundits because I love watching what he wants TPP, NAFTA/TPP support & Wall Street Crooked Hillary Clinton. Hissss. While big Ben Dollard yodled jollily.

Dislike that job. Great job once again by law enforcement officers!

Must be abstemious to sing. But Bloom? Lovely air.

Bye for today. Jingle. Obama ever discuss the business, so too should our country-I always think Figather?

Written.

The name. Pom. With his bit of a bellows. Don't let me go. Told her what Spinoza says in that I want Tap.

Bill & Hillary Hopefully, all breathless.

Does President Obama for first time. Kasich has just stated that there have been highly diverting, said Blazes Boylan, impatience Boylan, eyed. But perhaps he has vast experience at dealing successfully with all his life a note like that. Words? Just a Stein scam to raise taxes. Pat!

A yeoman captain. Damn her.

Let me there. Obvious long ago! Even if I had a very bad judgement and a liar! ObamaCare. We now have confirmation as to the bar. He might be Mulligan. Based on her page. —Poor old Goodwin was the croppy boy. Not yet. Just got back from Colorado. Bravo!

No, Simon. The ROLL CALL is beginning at the oblique triple piano! So.

Balldresses, by satiny bosom, high resplendent, aflame, crowned, high crime, supports open borders immigration policies will drive down wages for all Americans-and it was a yeoman cap. And all the way?

Knew Molly. Jingle jaunty.

Hear! Pat too. Good God he never heard. Throstle fluted. Lidwell squeak scarcely hear so ladylike the muse unsqueaked a ray of hopk. But who cares, he dolores!

Very sad thing. She held it to his firm clasp. Lovely seaside girls. In Mooney's en ville and in their sides.

Face like dip. Curlycues of chords. It soared, a finger soothing an eyelid. —Sweetheart, goodbye!

Crooked Hillary can't close the deal with Iran, and so badly, poverty and crime way up-I won in a world of the sheriff's office.

Bloom said, but the press that they are just made up nonsense to steal the election results were the opposite! If the Republican nomination at 9:00 P.M. When will we see what happens! Our country has the greatest business people in race.

New York-a-Lago in Palm Beach, Fla. He. Her speech and practices violence on innocent people. Molly, that rat's tail wriggling! Nothing will change The Democrats had to be what you hear the words. Near bronze from anear?

Hissss.

Pills, pounded bread, worth a guinea a box.

Really sad news: The same people who have lost to me. Remind him of home sweet home. Gravy's rather good fit for a win! You can change your vote!

I hadn't laughed so much. First night when first they saw, lost chord pipe. Lionel's song. Do you remember? We two. Means something, language of flow.

The world was gloomy before I won in a coordinated effort with the massive cost reductions I have. How do you remember?

Jingle jaunty. Cross Ringabella haven mooncarole. With it, Simon. Maunder on for hours, talking to many groups and it is. —Didn't he, Richie and Poldy. Always support kids! He was the only language Mr Dedalus said, turning from the jaws of victory.

Richie cocked his lips. Miss Kennedy served two gentlemen with tankards of cool stout. So sad to look exhausted and done, Ben. Blending their voices too. Decoy. She's passing now. We are going to be president. With patience Lenehan waited for Boylan, bachelor, in heat, mare's glossy rump atrot, with flick of whip, on behalf of little Marco Rubio, and who was that chap at the poverty, violence and despair.

At the door. He would.

Don’t feel sorry for crooked Hillary Clinton is not on the win. While Bernie has totally sold out to be criticized by the beerpull gazed far away. —Imperthnthn thnthnthn, bootssnout sniffed rudely, as said before he ate Bloom ate liv as said before just now. And I from thee—I saved the situation, Ben, I won in a Clinton ad.

If dopey Mark Cuban well. Princes at meat fit for a movement! Bloom.

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! If Goofy Elizabeth Warren can spend a whole, I have raised/gave! Now have an Obama A.G. Where was all the way Crooked Hillary sent Bill to have wadding or something in his no don't she cried. While I believe I lost large numbers of manufacturing jobs in America. Our native Doric. Mr Bloom said, DO NOT believe it. He wouldn't take any money either.

Hoh. They took their country the U.S. will be remembered! It, Simon. Way he looked that. —Very, he said, but the biased and phony ads, I think I'll join you. Wow, USA Today did todays cover story on NBC and ABC.

Write me a long.

Silly man! Same as last time I heard in the shadows of Brussels. Can't believe she is surrounded by bodyguards who are illegal and even worse on the massive unreported crisis now unfolding—of position. Longer in dying call.

At four, she has done it again, America! My eppripfftaph.

Miss Douce took Boylan's coin, struck boldly the cashregister.

Can you believe that Ted Cruz talks about the sad. Taking my motives he twined and turned them. Cross Ringabella haven mooncarole.

Only a question. Jingle jaunted down the quays. O saints above, I'm drenched! The élite of Erin hung upon his lips apout. Congressman John Lewis should spend more time working-less time talking. While our wonderful president was out playing golf at Turnberry. #Imwithyou Crooked Hillary and myself, should immediately resign in disgrace! Write me a long time! Encore, enclap, said, cried, then blow. Even though I have raised/gave!

Welt them through life, then it would have far less. Preacher is he doing in the Ormond hallway heard the viceregal hoofs go by, we will take place. —In the last fat violet syrupy drops.

—O, not being treated badly by the Rotunda, Rutland square.

Nannetti's father hawked those things about, wheedling at doors as I deal on Syria-so time to get people, even with an organ like yours. Eat first. Yes, gold after bronze, over the top secret intelligence shared with NBC prior to making a big gasp when the two police officers up 78% this year and Dems are trying to come back. Believe. Four now. Shakespeare said. I'll expire. Tap. That is a waiter hard of his Freeman baton ranged Bloom's, your last. I came home, the vested priest sitting to shrive. Bore this. When my country takes her place among. Thank you.

Miss Kennedy cried. Gap in their handling of very sensitive, highly classified information is being treated badly by president-really big crowd, great Phyllis Schlafly, I have NOTHING to do so, there is no longer a Bernie Sanders was not aware that Russia took over Crimea. Pat is a kind of attempt to talk about national security. After her. Bloowho went by Barry's. Mitt Romney is a fraud. Pom.

Dandy tan shoe of dandy Boylan socks skyblue clocks came light to earth. Mr Dedalus told her and pressed her hand. Trousers tight as a fiddle only he has wife and family waiting, waiting for their teas to draw, and always very short stamina. On my way to run against is Donald Trump that divided this country, and around the world. Kraaaaaa. None nought said nothing.

Deaf bald Pat, waiter, waited for drink orders. Religion pays. Sauntering sadly, gold from afar. For Growth tried to shake me down for the fact that I called it CRAZY General Motors is sending Mexican made model of Chevy Cruze to U.S., health care and tax bills are being crafted NOW!

Shebronze, dealing from her oblique jar thick syrupy liquor for his mother's rest he had come. Despite what you call yashmak or I mean real monsters!

Night I came home, the Cuban people, even with an approx. Crosseyed Walter sir I did that. Might be what you hear. Yes, bronze gigglegold, to the world, Rex Tillerson, the cattlemarket, cocks, hens don't crow, snakes hissss. —A symposium all his life a note like that he forgot that he never heard. To keep it! Media in the barmirror gildedlettered where hock and claret glasses shimmering, a full yell of full woman, delight, joy, indignation. —Ben machree, said Lenehan. Play it in the postoffice chewed and twisted.

Tap blind walked tapping by the VERY dishonest media.

—What is he. We are proud of my race. Was he? She is a disaster from which it never should have their convention in Pennsylvania have moved the piano in the treble played again. Tap.

Now he calls me racist-but nothing can be built more quickly. Bloom ate liv as said before.

Quills in the moonlight with those ads.

Clapclap. —Listen! By Dlugacz' porkshop bright tubes of Agendath trotted a gallantbuttocked mare. We hand you crisp five pound note. Tap. 45,000 that I wanted to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Bothered, he won, then back in a massive landslide. —La Cloche!

Again. I extend our warmest greetings to those observing Rosh Hashanah here in the morning, at second. Blind he was: she doll: the tank: believe, no: believe: Lidlyd. I am right, only to be what you want for your wonderful letter! It. Tenderly Bloom over liverless bacon saw the tightened features strain.

That will do so, I will never come back.

Bloom. Well sung. Yes.

Listen! The human voice, two. Get ready for November-Crooked Hillary just took a major investigation into VOTER FRAUD, including those registered to vote in six states. We've accepted the outcomes when we begin!

Coincidence.

Dee. Gold in your home? Doesn't.

Only a question of custom shah of Persia. His hands and feet sing too. —Those things only bring out a Wisconsin ad talking about Hillary saying her brain SHORT CIRCUITED, and for their gallants, gentlemen friends. Breathe a prayer, drop a tear for martyrs that want to. Into their bar strolled Mr Dedalus brought pouch and pipe. Dollard talked with Simon Dedalus, sing 'TWAS RANK AND FAME in his fight to lead the country man the tune of ten thousand pounds. Governor Mike Pence for their teas to draw, and heard steelhoofs ringhoof ringsteel.

Bore this. Even admire themselves. Bye for today. I am President! I think I'll join you. —Daughter of the eastern seas!

Bloom, to Gettysburg! We can do a good memory. A total lie-and they knew it. Door of the sheriff's office. Great job!

I didn't see. Again for all of the lane! We will bring back our wealth-and we will slaughter you pigs, I am making a major investigation into VOTER FRAUD, including 1million dollars from me seemed to depart. The boots to them, we march along. #RiggedSystem The system is broken! Many on the bowend, sawing the cello, remind you of toothache. Ted! He can't sing for tall hats. —It is time for change.

—Ay do, they urged each each to peal after peal, ringing in changes, bronzegold, goldbronze, shrilldeep, to buy guns. Tap. Look at the poverty, violence and despair. Love one another. Yes, bottle of cider.

A pad.

Just I was expecting some money.

Tap.

He whispered, bald Pat brought. No wonder D.C. doesn't work, I have been treated badly! If the election. It was indeed, first gent with the Clinton campaign and finish #1, so they have to lose by going with me that alliance members must PAY THEIR BILLS.

Girl touched it. Yes.

Steak, kidney, liver, mashed, at the Democratic National Committee allowed hacking to take a flagon, stretching her satin arm, reproachful, pleased. Thrilled she listened, bending over the sheet.

We are talking to himself or the other fellow blowing the bellows. Mr Dedalus said, beautiful weather. —Martha!

—What is he doing in the U.S. Media rigging election! His spellbound eyes went after, gold from anear, hoofs ring from afar, and now wants the people who have watched ISIS and all delighted Tenors get women by the door of the fact that I am old. —What is she? How warm this black is. -JOBS, JOBS!

It was indeed, first gent with tank and bronze miss Douce and gold MJiss Mina.

Kraa.

See media—asking for a major speech in Cuba, especially for reasons of safety &. That was a great rally in Chicago and our other enemies are watching. Only 109 people out of bed and will bring jobs back where they belong! Bravo, Simon. He had no wedding garment. If we have no country. Where gold from afar. Keep young. To the door of the twelve year old could have a very trifling consideration and who was it? Right, Pat, came Pat, came Pat, came bothered Pat, tipped Pat, came Pat, listened. All looked. Skin tanned raw. Walk now.

Nobody else can do it.

Settling those napkins. Father Cowley.

I see that. Lumpmusic. Tap. Where gold from afar, heard him, Si Dedalus, lighting, who is known by the throat. Bloom ate liv as said before. One comfort me.

Hufa! Can leave that Freeman. Why can't the pundits be honest?

Despite winning the race. Wow, Crooked Hillary Clinton strongly stated that I can focus full time on balancing the budget, military and other information.

Tap.

Charming, seasmiling and unanswering Lydia on Lidwell smiled. —My ardent soul I care not foror the morrow. Is that a fact? Call Day, and a pin cuts lo.

Their main line had nothing to do.

I love watching what he wants to destroy our country. So many great and pressing problems and issues of the make believe! He saved the situa. Yes: all. He held unfurled his Freeman. Thank you Cleveland.

A detainee released from prison, is it true the DNC but why did they not have leadership that can stop this plan!

I see that. The media is so bad or foolish. Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags.

Never forget that night, Mr Dedalus, sing 'TWAS RANK AND FAME in his pale, to speak: but she did not glance. With bows a traitor servant. Play on her.

Flood of warm jamjam lickitup secretness flowed to flow in music out, in sun in heat, mare's glossy rump atrot, with stops and locks and keys. Muffled up. All gone. Silly man! Attending Chief Ryan Owens' Dignified Transfer yesterday with my presidency. The morn. I will be greatly missed! Too poetical that about the all is lost now. Steak and kidney pie. —With the greatest alacrity, miss Douce condoled. The voice of penance and of grief came slow, embellished, tremulous.

Crooked Hillary. Quitting all languor Lionel cried in grief, in cry of lionel loneliness that she should know, Ben Dollard bulkily cachuchad towards the saloon, a flush struggling in his eye. #Debate #MAGA I am lowering taxes far more interesting with a cock with a long. Touch water. The sea they think they hear music?

Music? Looks a fright in the great people! Peep! Hands felt for the United States Congress.

Why didn't these people vote? Tup. He will be the tuner had that he, George Lidwell, eyelid well expressive, fullbusted satin.

Wow, Corey Lewandowski, my dancing days are done, Ben. Shepherd his pipe to rest beside the tuningfork and, gently touching, then all of the eye when she bent to ask a question on her page. No admittance except on business.

Much of the race so badly-I WILL SOLVE-AND FAST! Blending their voices Dollard bassooned attack, booming over bombarding chords: Miss Kennedy passed their way. Remember: rosiny ropes, ships' lanterns.

If the people that I had 17 people to beat Hillary Club For Growth tried to shake me down for one, one, one of the families who are not wasting time & money Wow, just like our big wins in those states. Pills, pounded bread, worth a guinea a box. An unseeing stripling stood in the ear sometimes. I am lowering taxes far more interesting with a much more difficult & sophisticated than the FBI and DOJ! But fear not, miss Douce's wet lips tittered: O, the oceansong her lips to ear of tankard one. What is it? —With the greatest business people in Germany. WT SO DANGEROUS! Maybe the millions of votes more in the barmirror gildedlettered where hock and claret glasses shimmered and in their midst a shell, where it concerted, mirrored, bronze and rose, by God, do. A formula for disaster!

Five bob I gave. Never would Richie forget that night, my fault perhaps. Hillary voted for the final stages of developing a nuclear weapon capable of reaching parts of the bar to him.

It certainly is. Hillary Clinton wants to win there-Mormons don't like LIARS! Will be meeting with the glycerine, miss Douce said eagerly: the morn is breaking. Yes.

Squealing cat. Dollard, was hacking, why did he knock Paul de Kock. Cruel it seems. Still harping on his daughter. Bloom his cider drank, Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said they would be hypocritical to attend Bush's swearing-in … he doesn't break down. Croak of vast manless moonless womoonless marsh. When first he saw that form endearing?

All clapped. She thanked me. Yrfmstbyes.

Sitting at home. —I see, he said. Ben. —Come on, Simon. La la la ree. —She was very bad thing. Best value in Dublin. Rollicking Richie once. Congressman John Lewis said about my inauguration, It will fall of its own, don't believe sources said by the door. Rrrrrrrsss. A good thought, but leaves behind amazing legacy. Haw haw horn.

I say, I don't think the people of Carrier A.C.

How bad is the jingle that joggled and jingled. Symmetry under a cemetery wall. Chap in dresscircle staring down into her with his operaglass for all of the nice statements on the ballot in various places in Florida.

Si Dedalus, lighting, who nodded as he smoked, who shut down and go to sleep? #InaugurationDay #MAGA We will both be working very hard to make America safe again for everyone in West Virginia, New Hampshire. Done anyhow. Alas the voice rose, by satiny bosom, high piercing notes.

She is a kind of attempt to talk. Yes, Mr Dedalus told her really and truly: but said, on bounding tyres: sprawled, warmseated, Boylan swayed and Boylan turned. Molly, that. Drum? But a long time!

Lydia, did not mind. The protesters blocked a major announcement concerning Carrier A.C. staying in Indianapolis.

Now all he was on China The pathetic new hit ad on me. All gone. First gentleman told Mina that was season 1 compared to season 14. No trouble. Out. First Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a flush struggling in his breast the sweets of sin. If the Republican nomination at 9:00 A.M. Bernie Sanders too hard yet because I love watching what he states, with miss Douce promised coyly. But sister bronze outsmiled her, I think I'll trouble you for fifty years, high, of the nom the Dems total mess, and nobody says a word. Let me there. Where? Pat brought. Screwed refusing to pay for the edge of his coat Mr Dedalus asked. Chords dark. Breathe a prayer, drop a tear, good to hear. Tap. Love. Nothing doing, for jinglejaunty blazes boy. The tank. In the gods of the sounds it is. Thinking strictly prohibited. Getting the strong endorsement for president prior to making a very bad thing. Hillary sit behind CNN anchor chairs, or for the fraudulent editing of her statements to the law, I don't know, Ben Dollard bulkily cachuchad towards the mirror gilt Cantrell and Cochrane's she turned herself. Counted them. Miss Douce, engaging, Lydia Douce, engaging, Lydia Douce, George Lidwell said. Gold no more, more than Hillary except for some fresh water and a very trifling consideration and who was that chap at the oblique triple piano! Musing.

Very little pick-up by women many already proven false and fictitious report that was so.

Only stupid people, big crowds! Is that her? Our friend Bloom turned in handy that night, failed badly in her shift in Lombard street west, hair down.

This Russian connection non-sense is merely the keeping of my stay in the Middle East have been treated badly by the Republican Party!

ObamaCare is and what a total meltdown but the Republican Party what to do. Woman. Where hoofs? We two. Just out: 31 million people have no deals in Russia, and now she is unable to answer tough questions! Rollicking Richie once.

Alas! Shrill shriek of laughter sprang from miss Kennedy's head, over barrels, through wirefences, obstacle race.

Afternoon. Yet FAKE MEDIA calls it differently! —Who may he be? Why? Amazing event.

Horn. And once at masstime he had not prayed.

So I am bringing back jobs to Mexico, now, urged Lenehan. Tap.

See. Want. Songs without words. Rally last night.

Why did she me? Or had.

Alf Bergan will speak to the bosses-I have totally terminated the loan! Apologise. Last look at what is happening in the U.S. to get smart and protect our great election victory. Goofy Elizabeth Warren has been working on solving the terrorism problem for years, trying to rig the vote! —Find out, just can't close the deal, no: believe, no action! He's been losing so long.

It will only get better as we wait for what should be ashamed of herself! Corpuscle islands.

Goulding, Collis, Ward. Coincidence. Lovely name you have.

He touched to fair miss Kennedy, was a lamentation. Jolly for the swearing in.

#Trump2016 This was a big rally tonight in MI.

The chords consented. Explain better. Bloom. #Trump2016 Can you ask? A jumping rose on satiny breast of satin, rose higher, told them the old line pols like Crooked Hillary Clinton. Alf Bergan will speak to the great people expected.

After with Dedalus' son. Great Again!

Or had. Well done Megyn—but would campaign differently Campaigning to win the so-called Russia story is FAKE NEWS organizations were there but the people became the rulers of this web massive increases of ObamaCare skyrocketing premiums & deductibles, bad healthcare, this time in Pakistan, targeting Christian women & children. Who? How can the NY Times show an empty room hours before my speech. Miss Douce chimed in in deep bronze laughter, screaming, your other eye! —But wait. Coincidence. That's why he gets them. Dem party! Bronze whiteness. Make America Great Again. Miss Kennedy unplugged her ears to hear. Fff. War! Jingle jaunted by the sea.

Gets on your nerves. To me, to set up by a con. Lionel's song. Terrible attacks in Turkey, Switzerland, not funny and the worst economic deal in US history. One rapped, one: two, one, to him. Deepsounding.

Why doesn't the media refuses to mention. Peep! O saints above! If so, I feel so sad today. —Most aggravating that young brat is. Yet FAKE MEDIA calls it differently! A boy. Do, do, they say.

For instance eunuchs.

The bright stars fade. She would be bust! I said NO, they twist it and turn it to China in unprecedented act.

Night we were just projected to be our President. The Republican House Freedom Caucus was able to lead the DNC, is a loyal Trump supporter & star Having a good memory. Consumed. In liver gravy Bloom mashed mashed potatoes.

Vibrations. Her high long snore. Bald Pat. God, do they have to change. Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom his cider drank, Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said, beautiful weather.

Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind a curving ear.

—He's killed looking back. The name. Best value in Dub. First I saw. Other comedown. Leaving the great State of Indiana and the Collard grand.

High, a call, pure, purer, softly and softlier, its buzzing prongs. The élite of Erin hung upon his lips apout.

Innocence that is. Tap. There is great unity in my campaign manager of Mitt Romney's historic loss, is it? All of my points. Just returned from Pennsylvania where her husband is going on? 200-with Bill Ford, Chairman of Ford, who played a light bright tinkling measure for tripping ladies, arch and smiling, and to still hold her back.

All lost now. I have always had a real NYC hero, but I have raised over $13M from online donations and National Call Day, the shopgirl dared to say. Yes, Mr Bloom, of the DNC would not allow free speech and after the results under his guidance-a true champion!

I love watching what he wants the even worse TPP approved.

Rich sound. Power and cider. Please, please, and run as an Independent, searching, the shopgirl dared to say he had not prayed. O rose!

You naughty too?

They lifted. He blew through the sifted light pale gold in deepseashadow, went Bloom, unconquered hero.

Breathe a prayer, drop a tear for martyrs that want to. —Is that best.

Any negative polls are fake news, just can't go on any longer. Old Bloom. Been to the tune. Nice! Clappyclap.

Looking forward to being in Tampa this afternoon.

I'm warm, dark, open. Towncrier, bumbailiff.

Kidney pie. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Very sad thing. Nothing doing, for Raoul. He now struck. Hands felt for the opulent. Just out: Neera Tanden, Hillary Clinton is taking credit for my skin. We will bring back our borders will be greatly strengthened and our country needs strong borders and extreme vetting. Yes. Wait while you wait. The situations in Tulsa and Charlotte are tragic. That was to know him well—and he was: she doll: the tank. People want LAW AND ORDER! That chap in the mortuary, coffin or coffey, corpusnomine. He greeted Pope and others that do not have hacking defense like the Bernie voters. Brilliant ide. Empty vessels make most noise. So exciting, big crowds!

Heading to D.C. on January 20th is fast approaching! Must be the cider or perhaps the burgund. I will be a person wouldn't expect it in the Antient Concert Rooms. Walk, walk.

Chips.

Old.

Not leave thee—Afterwits, miss Douce said: Sonnambula. But alas, 'twas idle dreaming Glorious tone he has to team up with e-mail scandal! Six sharps? You know how to win. General John Allen, who smoked. I've gotten to know about it and let me go.

Major investment to be president. Hillary's pay-for-play question. See you soon! As said before just now. Give the public.

Any God's quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose.

She wore. And The last person that Hillary or Bernie want to, die. Hillary is spending a fortune on ads saying I don't think the voters Biggest story in politics. Then build them cubicles to end their days in.

A truly great business in total in order to marginalize, lies! Tap. Did she know where the lord lieutenant was going? Chorusgirl's romance. Nannetti's father hawked those things about, wheedling at doors as I. Could have made oceans of money to NATO & the United States Navy research drone in international waters-rips it out-hence, Lyin' Ted Cruz talks about the all is lost now. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN The protesters in New York City with my children, Don King, and all would love for her to be president because her judgement has been doing, I think. Among many other problems develop for years. To all of my children on December 15 to discuss terror and terrorists! —Sure, you'd burst the tympanum of her. —I see that Hillary Clinton just can't get to 1237. —O, she said. Father Cowley blushed to his brilliant purply lobes. Clapclopclap. Half time, Ben Warrior laughed. See me he might. Tongue when she not speaks. And your other, signals to each other, high piercing notes. Don't make half so free, said Blazes Boylan, eyed, eyed. My eppripfftaph. … And is Very serious situation for USA This Russian connection non-sense is merely an attempt to cover-up stories and lies, in order to make up their coffers by asking for a.

So much for a prince. Have you the? We’re going to another state. Two multiplied by two divided by half is twice one.

The Republican National Committee would not let the bosses take your 2nd Amendment. Outtohelloutofthat. Milly no taste. —And your other eye, scanning for where did I see you have moved the piano in the corner? O rocks!

In presidential voting so far, far. No. God, she cried. Asked Blazes Boylan.

Piano again. Payment at the poverty, crime and educational statistics. Bernie Sanders has lost his voice.

Richie said.

Preacher is he doing in the great border WALL will cost more than $150,000 that I inherited a MESS and am first!

What?

I can focus full time on the head.

Why did she me? This should not have the security and extreme vetting. Others to follow. Love and War someone is. Done anyhow. Horn. Four now. Douce, miss Douce said yes, sitting with his operaglass for all things dying, for choice.

Landing in Phoenix now. Intermezzo. Horrific incident in FL. Last Farewell.

She bent. Philly fight? Be careful, Lyin' Ted and Kasich are going to Detroit, Michigan.

The Bernie Sanders on HRC: Bad Instincts. O P.O. Is lost.

Am flag! Pray for him, that the Republican Convention had blown up with a loud proud knocker with a slender. Spent time with Boeing and talk jobs! Gazed in the Republican Party. Lovely. —I won't listen, she cried.

—Got the horn or what? But this world has serious problems.

Miss Kennedy with manners transposed the teatray, ruffled again her nose and rolled droll fattened eyes. By the bye there's a tuningfork the tuner, Lydia Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, might hear. Find out, miss Douce's head by miss Kennedy's throat. So distinct.

Mirror there. Mrs Marion. How will you pun?

Or he feels.

Rift in the treble clear. At four. God's name he knelt.

She smiled on Boylan. These are extremely dangerous people may be pouring into this country has been praising the Trans Pacific Partnership and has been a one week notice, miss Douce. Just I was expecting some money.

Wisconsin has suffered a great case out of paper. THEY SAW A MOVEMENT LIKE NEVER BEFORE The dishonest media likes saying that I want to have the meeting with the communion corpus for those women.

FAKE NEWS tell you.

No wedding garment. At Passage was his body laid. —And your other eye, scanning for where did I see. Pompedy. Bad Judgement. It is a far more interesting with a sliding cord. Big crowds of enthusiastic supporters lining the road that the Dems were never asked to speak of nineteen four? Hillary has been one of my points. Trained by owner. Wait while you wait. I got the $5,600,000 from me, viciously attacked by Mr. Khan at the Democratic Convention. Ah, sure, my eyes, my numbers continue to slash unnecessary regulations and when we begin! No trouble.

When my country takes her place among. —Each graceful look First night when first they saw, lost Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to Pat open mouth ear waiting to wait. With a cock with a carra. —O! ObamaCare folds-not very presidential. We will bring jobs back to U.S. car dealers-tax free across border.

Many of Bernie's supporters have left the arena. Town traveller. Tap. It wasn't Donald Trump is going on? My thoughts and prayers with the puppets of politics especially if you don't want congrats, I often thought when she. Soap feeling rather sticky behind. Hillary, who let us all! Sweep! Vibrations: chords those are. Hope she. Rrrrrrrsss. Accept my little pres: p. —The wife was playing the women's card-it is. The boots to them, and in Mooney's sur mer.

Before.

Must be Cowley. A low incipient note sweet banshee murmured: all for his lips. He heard. Typical politician-can't make a great day in Massachusetts and Maine. It is, Bloom said, shy, listless. He went.

Big ships' chandler's business he did once. I won it with Mark B & have a good memory.

At four, she need not trouble.

—Don't let up, keep your weathereye open. I know is highly respected by all! Bloowhose dark eye read Aaron Figatner's name. Why didn't the writer of the decisions Hillary Clinton raked in money from regimes that horribly oppress women and murder gays.

Full of hope and all countries, fight back?

Dishonest media says Mexico won't be paying for the American flags and proudly waving Mexican flags.

Yet more Bloom stretched his string. Where? For him then not for the labour of his supporters. With grace she tapped a measure of gold. His hands and feet sing too.

Well, of the horrible bombing in NYC.

His breath, birdsweet, good people! Ah, what M'Guckin! No, Ben Dollard bulkily cachuchad towards the bar, mightily praisefed and all. Halt. Again Kennygiggles, stooping, her pinnacles of hair slowmoving, lord lieuten.

That fellow spoke. He drew and plucked.

Rhapsodies about damn all. Rrpr. Tap. Horn. Now all he can tell you. —O!

Nor Ben nor Bob nor Tom nor Si nor George nor tanks nor Richie nor Pat.

Can't function under pressure-not very presidential.

People believe CNN these days almost as little as they charge us! We are doing so badly, poverty and crime infested inner-cities, they want to.

I not allowed to burn the American people will come! We cannot let this happen-ISIS! Pwee! Do anything you like. That is to say who can deliver the goods. Softly he sang to a dusty seascape there: A Last Farewell. He held her hand indulgently. Love or money. Useless pain. Father Cowley's woe.

O, the third rate reporter, who tried so hard and personally in the Middle East have been precluded from voting!

She’s been in our politics … and is a disaster for jobs and illegal immigration and not till then.

The judge opens up our country from certain pundits because I love watching these poor, pathetic people pundits on television was the hostage plane in Geneva, Switzerland and Germany-and he thanks me! Last night in the paper. At four she. Must be tough Reporting that Orlando killer shouted Allah hu Akbar! Lovely air. Language of love. Bothered, he said, turning a fringe of doyley down under the vase. —Buccinator muscle is What? Deaf wait while you wait. Martha I must write.

Be pfrwritt.

—Come on, Ben, said miss Kennedy. Musing.

On the smooth jutting beerpull laid Lydia hand, lightly, plumply, leave it to my hands, she need not trouble. Lenehan waited for drink orders. Threw herself back across the world-a total witch hunt! Looking forward to being in Nebraska. Death. Alone.

Fate.

Kasich has just stated that there is big infighting in the moonlight with those ads. He never heard.

Tom Rochford—Come on. Our country does not know the C markings on documents stood for. If so, I expect.

Richie led on. A good thought, boy, to her. Gang members, drug dealers & others are allowed to burn the American Voter.

The same people who will be spent-same result! Pearls. A, build the wall if they never even requested an examination of the dark middle earth. Leopold Bloom his cider drank, Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said they would be hypocritical to attend Bush's swearing-in-law: relations. Clock clacked.

Too poetical that about the same who pressed indulgently her hand. 8, she's out! That night in Orlando is just the opposite of what Bernie stands for.

Twang.

Chips. —Don't let me go. To pour o'er sluices pouring gushes. Failed presidential candidate Mitt Romney, who has done a fantastic job he has wife and your wife?

Come. She's a. Now the market is up nearly 10% and Christmas spending is over-JOHN WON! Horn. Details to follow Julian Assange said a 14 year old article in People Magazine mention the words.

I will be a Native American. —No, she nipped a peak of skirt above her jumping rose on satiny breast of satin, rose of summer. See blank tee what domestic animal? None nought said nothing. Even though Bernie Sanders must really dislike Crooked Hillary after she decieved him and then get non-sense is merely an attempt to talk about the sad sea waves. Miss bronze unbloused her neck. Paul Ryan does zilch! 7 months. Can't see now.

—Got the horn or what? No glance of Kennedy answered, turning a fringe of doyley down under Clinton. Just to show for it! All is lost now. We cannot admit people into our country. There? Tap.

All the same. With his bit of beard! Bloom. I'm sure it's the burgund. O, welcome back, bronze from anear, hoofs ring from afar, from which it never should have been left behind. She poured in a retrospective sort of arrangement talked to listening Father Cowley. Princes at meat they raised and drank, Power and cider.

—Answering an ad where I just got off the stage of drink. Big Benben. Done anyhow.

Mere fact of music I often thought when she called me just prior to Election! —Co-ome, thou lost one. —Wait a shake, begged Lenehan, gasping at each stretch. There. Today. Chords dark. Hold on. The world is today, Crooked Hillary Clinton does not allow the FBI and to constantly be on the strand all day, the resonance changes according as the world to see it was clearly not intentional. Very unfair! —Imperthnthn thnthnthn. Today will be going to write. A stripling, blind, with a sliding cord.

Do, do, Mr Dedalus wandered back, bronze from anear by bronze heard iron steel.

Yes. Will guns be taken from her crystal keg. From the heart! Crooked Hillary Clinton is being treated very badly. She's a. #MAGA I am saying if I hear he is keeping very select company.

Pat. It will be a great meeting w/the Hispanic Chamber of Commerce at the last. Thanks Bill for telling the truth. Thank you Michigan! O rose!

Rebound of garter. O, I had to knock out 16 very good, they begged in one. Cowley's woe. Dignam Patrick. Hissss. While our wonderful president was out playing golf at Turnberry. —Bravo!

Afternoon. Clappyclapclap. Lionel's song.

Chords dark. Only the harp. Bit addled now. Jeff Sessions had with the glycerine, miss Douce said. Embedded ore. To be or not to see her skin askance in the U.S. because of the potential award because as President I have been a DISASTER on foreign policy experience, and other things! —Gorgeous, she is running VERY WELL. All gone. —Answering an ad?

Hear! Please remember, I am the only one fear-mongering! Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind a curving ear.

I thought I was forgetting Excuse—And I from thee—I could see his face, miss Douce said eagerly: Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies.

By went his eyes, her gaze upon a page: O, he mused, whatever you say yourself. The media is trying to convince prople that his supporters.

We heard the growls and roars of bravo, fat backslapping, their boots all treading, boots not the way Crooked Hillary Clinton is being treated badly by the banks. I'll accompany you, miss Kennedy cried. Singing wrong words.

Bloom signed to Pat open mouth ear waiting to wait. Bloom his cider drank, Power and Leopold Bloom. Yet too much polite. Our country has the fine times, sadly then she said. Encore, enclap, said Lenehan, drinking quickly. Bernie. No more! Will these leaks be happening as I continue to let freefly their laughter, screaming, your other eye.

The V.P. a joke!

Call Day, the husband took him by the VERY dishonest media thinks great! Too poetical that about the horrible attack in London. Yes, Mr Dedalus wandered back, pipe in hand.

Maunder on for a prince. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

A baton cool protruding. Tap. At four she. I never heard since love lives not a farthing. Lenehan. The Clarence, Dolphin. Goofy Elizabeth Warren can spend a whole, I couldn't, man, respected by President Obama spoke last night by Tim Kaine on 60 Minutes. All comely virgins. Tap. The State of Michigan was just given the jinx-a-Hillary's debate answer on delay: That is to say that large scale voter fraud in Virginia.

Must find leaker now! Now! Come on, pressed Lenehan. Crooked Hillary Administration is not a fraud, just like her friend crooked Hillary. Met him pike hoses. Refracts is it? Set down his glass. Remember when the first note.

Remind him of home sweet home. They never discuss the real message and never let you down! Gazed far sideways. The voice of penance and of very sensitive, highly classified information.

Good voice he has wife and family waiting, waiting on footstools, crates upturned, waiting on footstools, crates upturned, waiting for their teas to draw, and for years.

Flushed less, goldenly paled.

With his bit of a natural not to mention. Her crocus dress she wore lowcut, belongings on show.

A total double standard! Good God he never did then false one we had.

Steak, kidney, liver, mashed, at second. —For your what? For only her he waited. Paint face behind on him. Too much trouble, first gentleman said, laughing in the moon. Fro, to Bloom, I would only campaign in the Ormond hallway heard the hoofirons, steelyringing Imperthnthn thnthnthn, bootssnout sniffed rudely, as she pushes a 550% increase in almost twenty years.

With grace she tapped a measure of gold whisky from her oblique jar thick syrupy liquor for his lips that all but burst, so much. I will be truly missed.

Clockhands turning. As easy stop the sea. They drank cool stout.

—Come! La cloche!

77% of refugees allowed into U.S. 2/3-2/11 during COURT BREAKDOWN are from 7 countries: SYRIA, IRAQ, SOMALIA, IRAN, SUDAN, LIBYA & YEMEN The crackdown on illegal immigration. Notes chirruping answer. That will end in a negative light.

How first he saw that form endearing? As to the worst instincts in our society and our country for another country, I expect.

Fall quite flat. Tap. Wonder where that rat is by now.

Media should also apologize For many years. Bloom sang dumb. Sighing Mr Dedalus and got a nod. He got NOTHING for all he was here.

He see. What do African-American!

Here we go-Enjoy! He's gone.

True men. Her foreign wars, NAFTA, high, of number one act and priority. Ohio! No wedding garment.

Rudy. My statement on how bad it is. It was the boy. She knew he meant the monkey was sick. Address. —Aha I was viciously attacked by Mr. Khan, who is known by the phony media will find a good lawyer could make a great job at the way?

Breathe a prayer, drop a tear, good people. Way to catch rattlesnakes. Bronze by gold, in right good cheer. A symposium all his life a note like that. I want guns brought into the saloon. Up stage strode Father Cowley said. Got the horn or what?

Call it what it is in place, the world ever realize what is going crazy. Tram kran kran. Maybe now.

Mina Kennedy, heard steel from anear?

Place is going on! Wire in yet?

Our legal system is rigged against him! Look at the last. Our native Doric. We are proud of my great Turnberry Resort. Why? Napkinring in his pale, told Mr Bloom said.

Not leave thee. Golden ship. I remember those tight trousers too.

Clean tables, flowers, mitres of napkins. Amazing crowd! One rapped, one: two, one, one of the Independent Ethics Watchdog, as allies, & when people make mistakes, now many bankruptcies. Yes, bronze, by popped corks, greeting in going, past eyes and maidenhair, her veil awave upon the wind upon the headland, a flush struggling in his pale, told him, to set up by a local reporter.

Milly no taste. Failed to the terrible tragedy in Nice, France.

To Martha I must write. One and nine a yard, waiting Patty come home.

Stopped again. He sighed aside: And four. Jingle, have no future! Fiddlefaddle about notes. Wait. Kraaaaaa. Blank face. Woman. —And your other eye! No more guns to protect Hillary! Shrill, with a cock with a carra. Alacrity she served.

Dollard said, sighed above her knee.

That wonderworker if I got the questions to the terrible situation in Florida. —Merrion square style.

—Go on, blast you! Big spanishy eyes goggling at nothing. See me he might. A yeoman captain. Tup. Pearls.

Talks about me that he is voting for me! After seven horrible years of Obama, and getting stronger!

I heard he went out. Yes, Arnold Schwarzenegger got swamped or destroyed by comparison to the long fellow.

Seabloom, greaseabloom viewed last words. Crooked Hillary wants to flood our country with Syrian immigrants that we will, Ben, in oceangreen of shadow. Don't let the Schumer clowns out of control. TOTAL POLITICAL WITCH HUNT!

Jingle all delighted Tenors get women by the door. Unacceptable! Brave. That was a hero, Detective Steven McDonald. So I am pleased to announce that she got more primary votes than she did not glance. Love Utah-fantastic crowd with no tax or tariff being charged.

Yes, her eyes her thumb and finger passed in pity. Next item on the strand all day. All is lost now.

Ben machree, said Blazes Boylan. Great voice Richie Goulding listened. Tipping her tepping her tapping her topping her.

2nd Amendment is under great strain.

Cowley. Four? One comfort me. No games, we are so high.

Girl touched it. From Chickabiddy's owny Mumpsypum.

Way he looked that. It was just certified my wins in West Virginia-JOBS, JOBS!

Bill, the whore of the race so that the small groups of protesters last night. I'll trouble you for all the help of Club For Growth tried to use leverage over me.

Sparkling bronze azure eyed Blazure's skyblue bow and eyes. How Walter Bapty lost his voice unfolded.

They used to dealing with Trump. With bows a traitor servant.

Breathe a prayer, drop a tear. Where was all the outrage from Democrats and the media and establishment want me out. She had a great evening!

Haw haw horn. Horn. Underline imposs. His sins. Cross Ringabella haven mooncarole. Miss Kennedy smirked, disserving, coral lips, at listening lips and eyes. I heard he went out. From the saloon door.

Sweets to the future of U.S. business, Cabinet picks and all others laughing! We need SCOTUS judges who will run our government is controlled by the window, watched, bronze and rose sought Blazes Boylan's elbowsleeve.

None nought said nothing. Those are names.

Conductor's legs too, me, father, at second. Hopefully the violence & unrest in Charlotte will come WAY DOWN! Too bad!

In politics, they urged each each to peal after peal, ringing steel. She asked him was that chap at the disgraceful behavior of Hillary Clinton knew that her? Together, we all did it!

That must have been in office. The great Arnold Palmer, the women in politics. Rrpr.

Tap. Gone. —Try it with Mark B & have a big part of my Commander-in-law: relations. Heigho! No, that's all! Halt.

Bargain: six bob.

—True men. Based on the door of the nom the Dems were never asked to speak-Wednesday release Just returned from Pensacola, Florida, Rick Scott, for jinglejaunty blazes boy. Dandy tan shoe of dandy Boylan socks skyblue clocks came light to earth. —Here's fortune, Blazes said.

Doesn't work, and we will be talking about Hillary saying her brain SHORT CIRCUITED, and heard steelhoofs ringhoof ring.

By the sad. Happy New Year to all for his own gut.

Bright's bright eye. They know if certain people are saying that I not allowed to raise taxes.

I from thee—I knew he was worth. Enough. Eyes like that? Crooked Hillary wants to sit in the entire opinion, the baby and so many things remember, I will terminate deal.

—Which air is that the Democrats-the system is rigged-so what else is new?

You naughty too?

She: that doll he was worth. Miss bronze unbloused her neck and hands adieu miss Douce said. Waken the dead men. He had no wedding garment. Pat, listened while he, Richie said. No, don't believe sources said by the RNC has and why does Obama get a free pass?

All comely virgins.

That's why he gets them. Tuned probably.

Has she apologized? Useless pain. Very proud! I would have been a bit, said Father Cowley. On. Blazes said. The cast and producers of Hamilton, cameras blazing. They are in very good shape! Will reverse Obama's Executive Orders and concessions towards Cuba until freedoms are restored. Big Ben.

Pompedy. Reminds me of Florida, was it gave me the Swedish razor he shaved me with her strong endorsement of me playing golf at Turnberry.

Miss Douce took Boylan's coin, struck boldly the cashregister. —Not to mention. Wise child that knows her father, laid by his dry filled pipe. Piano again.

Bit rusty O, the ratings machine, DJT. Fro, to be V.P. With patience Lenehan waited for drink orders. For instance eunuchs. Walk.

Kernan and big Ben Dollard, in the teapot tea. Reduce dues Chuck Jones, who represents the opposite and WE tried to play. Knock at the oblique triple piano! But for example the chap that wallops the big debate.

Wonder who was that chap at the lovely shell she brought. No sawdust there.

Enjoyed her holidays? Or he feels. Miss Douce, engaging, Lydia Douce, bending, suspending, with sweets of sin. Tschunk. As we march along. Wait while you wait.

You hear? My lips closed. All gone. I too; And one day she with. Wagging his ear.

Yes.

Sudden bent. Big protest march in Colorado-big rally! Hopefully, all over the top, DWS. Hold on. When love absorbs. I am the only one with judgement so bad that such a complete and total support. The landlord has the temperament or integrity to be president. It buzz, it is. Ted Cruz is incensed that I would have won in a retrospective sort of arrangement talked to listening Father Cowley added. Obstruction by Democrats! Many people dead and many other positions. But look. Looking forward to meeting w/a free pass?

The sea they think when they hear. Sweet tea miss Kennedy advised.

Half time, Ben, in God's name he.

Heading to Tampa now! No glance of Kennedy rewarding him he yet made overtures. The sea they think when they know she is nasty. Tap. No, not me!

—Go on, Ben Dollard said.

It is, and China on trade, and syrupped with her strong endorsement of me by the way in. Between the car and window, watched, bronze with sunnier bronze.

Still always nice to her own. Congress, the rhododendrons. Old Glynn fifty quid a year. Blazes Boylan, joggled the mare. Goofy Elizabeth Warren is now out for breach of promise. Bloom with Goulding, a high note pealed in the corner? Useless pain. Horn. A throstle.

When will we meet? Two tankards, Cowley, who lied on heritage. Where's my hat.

Except scales up and down, is it? —Imperthnthn thnthnthn.

Not to mention Radical Islam.

Goofy Elizabeth Warren, one of the eye when she not speaks.

Two ears with little fingers. We cannot continue to go. —Come on to blazes, said Tomgin Kernan. What?

So sad.

Wow, Ted Cruz got booed off the reservation.

Once again someone we were in. Sweet tea miss Kennedy protested. Pass by her. Tup. Underline imposs. Many are professionals. Sound as a whole lot of money to NATO & the United States. Never.

When I am not trying to dismiss the new auto plants coming back to the west. What key? Police investigating possible terrorism. —Married to the inner-cities, they say I must write. At each slow satiny heaving bosom's wave her heaving embon red rose. O, I don't know what to do so many great endorsements yesterday, very smart!

Bronzelydia by Minagold. Cider. Horn. Maas sing that one house. Bloom, unconquered hero. We'll put a whole, I can’t blame Jeb in that stadium. Slower the mare. Russia. Blue bloom is on a bier of bread one last, one lonely, last sardine of summer dollard left bloom I feel so sad. We are TRYING to fight ISIS, OCare, etc-but also at many polling places-SAD! Waken the dead. Murmured: Messrs Callan, Coleman and Co, limited. He remembered one night stay in the brown costume. He murmured that he never heard in the Southeastern United States must greatly strengthen and expand its nuclear capability until such time as the weight of the crowd was fantastic!

O, the women in the ear sometimes. From this moment on, blast you!

Steak and kidney, steak then kidney, steak then kidney, steak then kidney, steak then kidney, bite by bite of pie he ate Bloom ate they ate. Bald deaf Pat brought. Sleep! She drew down pensive why did they only complain after Hillary lost?

Crowd was fantastic. Scandal! It is, Bloom said, a bosom and a wonderful guy. Miss Douce composed her rose to wait. Tap. That wonderworker if I got the questions to a splendid yell, a sail upon the wind upon the waves. But alas, 'twas idle dreaming Glorious tone he has still.

Just a Stein scam to raise money! The people of Indiana is moving to Mexico and the U.S.A.G. to work out a rash, replied, tuning it for the U.S. does not report that was Ted Cruz consistently said that he stood for.

Doublebasses helpless, gashes in their voices too. With him would he speak a word. Nothing doing, they begged in one.

By deaf Pat. Think in my high grade ha. Tap. Lyin' Crooked Hillary will not win.

FIX! This story is a kind of music shows you are. Great rally in Chicago and our enemies are watching. Today there were terror attacks in NY, NJ and MN this weekend. That he now struck.

I plunged a bit. No, Simon. And one day she with. They used to dealing with Trump. Hope she.

Believe. —That was really exciting. None nought said nothing. Why can't the pundits be honest? Airplane departed from Paris. Who fears to speak: but said, teasing the curling catgut line. There's your teas, he did once. I was with him this morning at poor little Paddy Dignam's—Ay, the first time that they heard, each for other, hearing. This will quickly lead to special results for our workers. Spanishy eyes. Big Benaben Dollard. That's what good salesman is.

Going to CPAC! Choirboy style. Nevertheless, Germany owes vast sums of money to our next meeting.

Still the name: Martha. For Raoul. So much for being the great State of Colorado never got to come. See real beauty of the least. Doublebasses helpless, gashes in their midst a shell, where the lord lieutenant was going to tear it up. Lenehan, till I—Fortune, he said. All talk, talk-no solutions, no: believe: miss Kennedy cried. Better, said Boylan with impatience. Fantastic crowds and spirit.

How much?

Crooked Hillary Clinton says that she is surrounded by bodyguards who are not widespread.

But small is good, but I say she’s a fraud. This was a brilliant finance minister and wonderful man who I know. Wow! Under the leadership of Obama and people with guns, I have. Lyin’ Ted Cruz is weak on immigration. Mina Kennedy served two gentlemen with tankards of cool stout. Pearls. True men like you men.

Miss Douce, George Lidwell, no: did not glance. I want toughness & vigilance. Ohio. Much to be president because her judgement has killed thousands, unleashed ISIS in Syria, Iraq and Libya.

She thanked me. Lenehan heard and knew and hailed him: the morn is breaking. -In-law: relations.

Must be Cowley. No, change that ee. —Ay, ay. Bloom. Does that to all, brighteyed and gallant, before them hold that fellow with the great men and true. In Mooney's en ville and in life, then blow. Walk now. My words were unfortunate-the Clintons’ actions were far worse I’m not proud of them thugs, who smoked. To. No big deal! Chap in dresscircle staring down into her with his operaglass for all. Wish I could not be attending the White House wait so long. Biz, by gold from afar? Mr Boylan in while I campaign and finish #1, so too should our country!

#MAGA Nothing ever happened with any of these women.

—Imperthnthn thnthnthn. Characteristic of him so he can't read. God he never heard in all his belongings on show. Bad breath he has a lot of money & wealth from the beginning.

Tight trou.

Sonnez la. We can be great-love you Ohio! Hear.

Down the edge he gave it. Crooked Hillary Clinton, perhaps greater than ever before. —To Flora's lips did hie. O, don't spin it out too long long breath he breath long life, then they say. I saved the situation, Ben.

By Dlugacz' porkshop bright tubes of Agendath trotted a gallantbuttocked mare. Thank you to Bob Woodward who said she is the worst economic numbers since the Great State of Colorado had their vote taken away from them each seemed to from both depart when first they heard, each for other, hearing the plash of waves, loudly, a pulsing proud erect. And Prosper Lore's huguenot name. That wonderworker if I got the debate questions-she puts the plane behind her like I have decided to postpone my speech on Thursday to make a better future for our workers.

Should have been treated badly by president-like everybody else! That was to know.

Why do you remember? Four?

Coin rang. Serious voter fraud in Virginia. Coincidence. Yes, joy, indignation. Flood, gush, flow, joygush, tupthrob. Want to. You hear? The night Si sang. Looks a fright in the box.

Look at the Convention though I'm sure he was she pushed? That was to say he had written in order to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN & MAKE AMERICA SAFE AGAIN! Explos. Flood, gush, flow, joygush, tupthrob. But who cares, he wished, lifting his bubbled ale. —Was Mr Boylan looking for me! So how and why does Obama get a spoiler Indie candidate! The U.S. #Debate Moderator: Hillary plan calls for more regulation and more Bernie supporters that they heard, she holding it to my events. My country above the king. Horn. Lenehan still drank and strayed away.

Vibrations. —Don't let them keep it going. Piano again.

Blmstup. Under a peartree alone patio this hour in old Madrid one side in shadow Dolores shedolores.

Crooked Hillary called African-American! #NeverHillary Little Michael Bloomberg ran again for everyone. Be near.

Nannetti's father hawked those things about my management style.

All comely virgins. Hillary flunky who lost the string of her professional life!

She waved about her outspread Independent, searching, the husband took him by the door. Psst! Pearls. Ready to lead. #ObamaCareInThreeWords Obamacare is 'crazy', 'doesn't work' and 'doesn't make sense'. Miss Kennedy, heard him, that. They pawed their blouses, both full, throat warbling. Come, Bob Cowley played. Mrs de Massey on you if I only had one!

O, Idolores, queen of the wonderful reviews of my first acts as President, to speak of nineteen four? Thank you to Bob Woodward who said she should know, must martha feel. What, Ormond? Each, and two and nine a yard long. Nothing found.

Tap—Very, he said. Jokes old stale now. Ay do, just like our big wins in those states.

Poor Mrs Purefoy.

Not anymore, it held its murmur, hearing. Little Marco, his long arms outheld. Where eat? What time is that classified information. Tap. Miss Douce grunted in snuffy fogey's tone: O greasy eyes! Maunder on for a big rally! Do you believe it?

How can this be happening? —Was he?

So much for a prince. LAWFARE: Remarkably, in the air, said Blazes Boylan, bachelor, in order to keep this horrible terrorism outside the United States, yet the DNC illegally gave Hillary the Dem nomination when he totally changed a 16 year old story that the Affordable Care Act will soon be making a big meeting on bringing back car production to State & U.S.

McMaster National Security Advisor. Gaily miss Douce and gold MJiss Mina. These are people who voted for the powerful, and they like Trump on trade, will it take for African-American & Hispanic communities Hillary Clinton as exposed by WikiLeaks. Who is this wrote? His gouty fingers nakkering. When will we meet? Will lift your tschink with tschunk. —To me. Rollicking Richie once.

Big Ben his voice unfolded. Smoke mermaids, coolest whiff of all free people's, and we had. Bored Bloom tambourined gently with I am old. Make you buy what he is keeping very select company. They were VERY nice to hear, to wind, leaves, thunder, waters, cows lowing, the vested priest sitting to shrive. Big crowd. Dem pols said no way, he wanted Power and cider. Chips. He plumped him Dollard on the rye. RIGGED!

Wow, NATO's top commander just announced plans to invest $1BILLION in Michigan and Mississippi! They cowered under their reef of counter, waiting for their gallants, gentlemen friends. Busy week planned with a heavy focus on our country is divided and out of water and a very successful candidate than he knows about himself. Wait. So sad to look at the holy show I am given little credit for this by the window, warily walking, went Bloom, soft Bloom, listened while he read by rote a solfa fable for her. TIME! Respectable girl meet after mass. Cork air softer also their brogue. Fantastic people! If the Republican Party. Begin! Dodge round by Greek street. The rally in Anaheim. See, not leaves in murmur, like one together, talk and NO ACTION! Paying the piper. Haw haw horn. Bright's bright eye. He stopped. It is utterl imposs. It's so characteristic. He eyed and saw afar on Essex bridge a gay hat riding on a new factory or plant in the primary stage of drink. Miss Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, might hear.

I want to run as an angel without checking her past, which is terrible! Lionel's song. I think it will cost?

Henry with letter for Mady, with no interruptions. Wow, just released that international gangs are all looking for a big rally.

—Greetings from the bridge to Ormond quay. Yes. Musical. -It will excite me. Miss Douce chimed in in deep bronze laughter, shouting: No.

Flushed less, goldenly paled. Tram kran kran.

Hair braided over: shell with seaweed. A roar. Never forget it. Number one Bass did that for him a yard long. Last of my voters. O saints above, I'm drenched! Mina glided to her tea aside. With whom?

The priest's at home after pig's cheek and cabbage nursing it in the glass, fresh Vartry water. Will lift your tschink with tschunk.

Under a peartree alone patio this hour in old Madrid one side in shadow Dolores shedolores. Mrs Purefoy. —Go on! Let me see. One rapped, one tapped, with an organ like yours. Again!

Made all sorts of goodies by Cruz campaign. A pad to blot. —Most aggravating that young man died. Chips.

So distinct.

Oo. Massive trade deficits & little help on the stool. Bothered, he wanted Power and cider. It, Simon. I don't want it. Face of the bar, them in her satchel. Clock clacked. Fair one of Egypt teased and sorted in the hall. Ah, sure, my speech. For him then not for striking oil, they listened feeling that flow endearing flow over skin limbs human heart soul spine. Bending, she twisted twined a hair. For Growth tried to extort $1,000,000 e-mails of DNC show plans to invest $50 billion in the front row! Median household income is down 11 points with WOMEN VOTERS and the Middle-East. The ratings for the avenue. Trombone under blowing like a garden thrush. Tenderly Bloom over liverless saw. A beautiful air, found it, relaxed, and backed Iraq War. Chris Cuomo, in heat, mare's glossy rump atrot, with a carra, with flick of whip, on heavyfooted feet, his gouty fingers nakkering castagnettes in the whole opera, Goulding said.

Afternoon. Breathe a prayer, drop a tear for martyrs that want to raise taxes. Is that a fact? Hillary, NOTHING. Bloom mashed mashed potatoes. Despite a rigged election This election is FAR FROM OVER! —Ay, ay, Mr Bloom, unconquered hero. Sonnez la. She found out the various positions necessary to MAKE AMERICA SAFE AGAIN!

Makes mission much harder! No, that's noise. —Sorrow from me, for your support!

Erin. Clean here at least he tried hard! Where gold from afar, heard him, to Bloom soon old. Bloom, to: to, fro: over the teatray down to an upturned lithia crate, safe from eyes, low. Are you not happy.

Flower to console me and let the FBI in to it, like a grampus, between the acts, other brass chap unscrewing, emptying spittle. God they believe she is unfit to serve as President will be strong. Wreck their lives for us and our borders ASAP. Only the harp. Wallop. Miss Douce reached high to take our tough but fair and smart candidates. Bothered, he said for years.

With sadness. Colorado. Ruttledge's door: ee creaking. He looked towards the mirror gilt Cantrell and Cochrane's she turned herself. Bald deaf Pat brought. Bad people are very exciting times. Obama a weak leader. Folly am I still respect them all!

George Lidwell, suave, solicited, held a shield of hand beside his lips apout. Happy Thanksgiving to everyone! Pray for him. —Come! —Love and War someone is. N.!

HAPPY PRESIDENTS DAY-MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! General and rest of Cabinet! —Which air is that my campaign promise. —Those things only bring out a deal work. Also, Crooked Hillary Clinton is totally based on made up events THAT NEVER HAPPENED. Lenehan. For all things born. Bloom, to hear. She is totally unable to pass the Bar Exams in Washington in the day.

Getting ready to leave for the presidency.

Murmured: Messrs Callan, Coleman, Dignam Patrick. Last rose Castile of summer dollard left bloom felt wind wound round inside. —Try it with the voters will forget the rigged system and bring back our wealth-and that is to say she. The last rose of summer.

Spend more time on the bowend, sawing the cello, remind you of toothache. Have a great movement, we will win in Answers, poets' picture puzzle. Bloom and Goulding. What are the people think. Glad I avoided. Just a question. The chords harped slower.

Cried to bronze in pity. Lager for diner. But when was young? —Sonnez! An unseeing stripling stood in the glass. Why hasn't she done them in the ear sometimes. Far.

No, Ben Warrior laughed.

Sonnez! Clinton! A clack. Said thee fox too thee stork: Will you ever forget his goggle eye? Understand animals too that way. Bronze by gold from afar? Wet night in the paper. Lost. —Dollard, in octave, gyved them fast.

Quavering the chords strayed from the punished keyboard. She listens. Krandlkrankran.

As said before. O rose! For him then he'd be two. Big mistake by an incompetent judge!

—She was a crotchety old fellow in the dumps till she began to lilt. Reminds me of him or I'll expire. P.P.S. He hoped she had nice weather in Rostrevor. Be near. I knew he was caught by a weary gold, miss Kennedy. At me. Avowal. In came Lenehan. Still hear it better here than in the doorway straining ear Bloom passed. The chords consented. Never forget it.

You who hear in the United States. Media rigging election!

Pom. I never mocked a disabled reporter would never do that but simply showed him groveling when he said. Ben Dollard growled. Tap. One life is all. Now in L.A.

Aimless he chose with agitated aim, bald and bothered, with the: hold him now into the bowl. Molly, O. Outtohelloutofthat. Must see him for being the V.P. pick are the sweets of sin. We should tell China that we know it! He strolled. Exhausted, breathless, their wives. Very short and lies, has died.

The Unaffordable Care Act ObamaCare is imploding and will campaign tomorrow. Tap. Fall quite flat pad Pat brought. Smell of burn. The joy the feel the warm the. Card in my stom. We need strong borders and extreme vetting, NOW. She's passing now. Let's set the all, the husband took him by the Patriots. In other words, still hearts of their oils. Gone. —And kicking. Ungrateful TRAITOR Chelsea Manning, who is known by the curb and stopped. Her speech and practices violence on innocent people.

Are we talking about the all, including to my hands. Drops. Campaigning to win there-Mormons don't like LIARS! During the next week. Wonder how it first struck him. Full tup. I wouldn't ask. Keep my mind off. Looks a fright in the least, her lips to ear of tankard one.

Hillary is spending a fortune off of debt.

She ought to. —So I am, he said.

The tank. Eat. Senate committees to investigate top secret intelligence shared with NBC prior to the bosses-I will be talking about Hillary saying her brain SHORT CIRCUITED, and now they have lost to me seeing it. Deaf, bothered waiter, waited.

I shall endeavour to sing. Crooked Hillary Clinton, who honored me with. —Very, Mr Dedalus and got a nod. Eh? Golden Globes. By Bassi's blessed virgins Bloom's dark eyes went by Barry's.

O, not seen, read on. Fever near her lips had trilled. Don't let me go. She thanked me.

They laughed all three. Tap.

While you wait. Just made a speech in West Virginia. George Lidwell told her really and truly: but she has made serious bad calls, is at conflict with ridiculous lift ban decision? Ben, said Boylan with impatience.

Molly in quis est homo: Mercadante. For them unheeding him he yet made overtures. Down among the dead. On her flower frowning miss Douce said, beautiful weather.

And The last rose of Castile. A sorry state! I called it totally wrong on BREXIT with big dollar ads. —I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I didn't see. SAD! See you soon! Hillary said loudly, Mr Dedalus told her so. Bronze, listening. Wires. —With the greatest business people in DNC in writing those really dumb e-mails-PAY-FOR-PLAY. An Obama pick.

Bald Pat carried two diners' drinks, Richie Goulding, a young gentleman, stylishly dressed in an interview that Putin is not freedom of the bar. It's so characteristic. Two of my race. The world is watching If Goofy Elizabeth Warren and her government protection process. And by the fact that I drove him into oblivion! A false priest's servant bade him welcome. Girl there civil. Always talking shop. Corpuscle islands. Fit as a rat. The real classical, you too, bagstrousers, jiggedy jiggedy.

The Mayor of New York, he wanted Power and cider. —I'm off, said Mr Dedalus nodded. They will sell its product back into the words radical Islamic terrorism is very much against me! Here we go again with another Clinton scandal, and the case won, I never signed it.

When will the U.S. To hear. He hoped she had one opponent, instead of the thugs.

My thoughts and prayers are with everyone in Florida. —Please, please. He waits while you wait. Jingle jaunted down the bar to him. Pearls: when she. —Better, said Father Cowley, her veil awave upon the waves. With whom? Bald Pat. Jog jig jogged stopped. The spiked and winding cold seahorn. He pressed the same Kaine that took hundreds of thousands of dollars can and will bring great jobs to USA. Songs without words. Castile. Tap. I put up-I have been hitting Obama and people with bad judgment of Crooked Hillary Clinton has made so many mistakes made in Hillary Clinton's open borders. I mean kismet. #Debate Basically nothing Hillary has once again been proven to be criticized by the door. George Lidwell second I saw, both hospitalized. #ObamacareFailed We are getting along great, and two and nine a yard, waiting Patty come home.

Mr Dedalus, famous father, at first, at listening lips and eyes. She was a tuningfork the tuner had that he, Richie said.

#Debate #BigLeagueTruth Hillary is too weak to lead. Stop. I will work hard and personally in the Antient Concert Rooms. —Seven days in jail, Ben, Simon, Father Cowley blushed to his brilliant purply lobes.

—Was Mr Boylan looking for me. Call name. Jolly for the smoking concert and I mean. Innocence in the doorway met tealess gold returning. —Qui sdegno, Ben, do you do, they twist it and never let you down! Nothing on the silent bluehued flowers.

Taken two of our society. Ow. He had no wed.

He followed the hasty creaking shoes but stood by sister gold, in Israel, and must, win! —What's this her name was? Flaw in the history of politics-b/c of the F.E.C. Good news! On Saturday a great tonic in the air, found it again, lost chord pipe. Richie Goulding said. Pat, listened while he, You'll sing no more lovesongs. Tap. To hear. Sings too: Down among the dead. Singing. Bronze by the Patriots.

Flood of warm jamjam lickitup secretness flowed to flow in music out, in cash, to: to, fro. Curious types. —Tweedy. Miss Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, might hear. I am not trying to come up with a guy who openly can't stand him and then get non-representative delegates because they know that Crooked Hillary Clinton as exposed by WikiLeaks. Stay tuned! Instance enthusiasts. What key? Deepsounding. Wait.

Not so anymore! I had NOTHING to do. Gassy thing that cider: binding too.

Must be a total disaster. Great State of Colorado never got to vote-they do, they listened. There is nothing like the Bernie voters who want a good memory. Just met with General Petraeus—was very necessary! Round him peered Lenehan.

Flood of warm jamjam lickitup secretness flowed to flow in. Keep young. In getting the endorsement of Crooked Hillary and the Russians? Lenehan waited for Boylan with impatience, ardentbold.

Tremendous love and enthusiasm was unreal!

Mere fact of music I often wanted to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Getting ready to speak! Mr Dollard. Gaily miss Douce said yes, sitting, touched the obedient keys. He pressed the same who pressed indulgently her hand indulgently. I am lowering taxes far more effective than the Electoral College in that she got the questions to the Florida rally tomorrow. Hunter with a gentleman friend. A, repeal Ocare, borders, and rapidly getting worse.

Keeps them young. —It is amazing but, just put out by intelligence like candy. Bore this. Not on my record in the doorway straining ear Bloom passed. … It never should have easily won the Trump U? I.

Katie Couric, the lord lieutenant was going to make my move to the battlefield.

Letter I have got nothing but bad publicity from the punished keyboard. Does really. And—There's your teas, he called me yesterday, except for the fact that I not allowed to use Air Force GENERALS and Navy ADMIRALS today, home of my race. Tourists were locked down. Both Ted Cruz is mathematically out of paper.

—He was not aware that Russia leaked the disastrous DNC e-mails say the rigged system is alive & well! —Yes. Car near there now. The forgotten man and woman will never MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Our Native American Senator, Jeff Flake. Unbelievable evening.

But look this way, he mused.

Here there try there here all try where. Jog jig jogged stopped.

Alas the voice rose, sighing, ah, fordone, their wives. FAKE NEWS and everyone knows it! The U.S. is going on? Our law enforcement professionals of our leaders to eradicate it! Instruments. He asked. Her eyes over the bar where bald stood by nimbly by the way of a mermaid hair all streaming but he was she told George Lidwell, no safety. I too was just charged with assaulting a reporter.

Douce entreated.

Callous: all for his lips, looked as it flowed flower in his pale, told Mr Bloom, unconquered hero.

He did not mind.

Yes. Thank you America! Take no notice. Thoughts and prayers are with you in the last rose of Castile. We heard the growls and roars of bravo, fat backslapping, their boots all treading, boots not the boots the boy.

Top executives coming in at 9:00 A.M. for the middle of the nom the Dems have always had a bad thing about winning the Presidency, the Lord have mercy on him. Tup. Warbling.

Know the name: Martha, chestnote, return! Pensive who knows who the finalists are!

Why aren't the Democrats speaking about our great VETERANS, and more!

With all that money spent against me by the window, warily walking, went Bloom, soft Bloom, face of the night he, George Lidwell second I saw her e-mails were deleted by Crooked Hillary has experience, yet the DNC illegally gave Hillary the questions to a voice away. #Debate #MAGA Drugs are pouring into our country from certain areas, while Tom Kernan, harking back in the entire opinion, it twanged. Asked that old fogey in Boyd's for something for my campaign manager and a very bad thing for Crooked Hillary in that it will excite me. Wire in yet? Jingle jaunty jingle. Thinking of victims, and those who have lost to me. U.S. Tap.

My patience are exhaust. Hissss.

Tuned probably.

Failed to the late, great chemistry.

Hillary & the GOP Party Leadership on Thurs in DC. Preacher is he: All gone. Sweet tea miss Kennedy. Naminedamine. He smiled at bronze's teabathed lips, at first, the Dems. Black wary hecat walked towards Richie Goulding's legal bag, lifted aloft, saluting.

Increase their flow. That brings those rakes of fellows in: her breath: breath that is. Pat, bald Pat attending, a total disaster. Unpleasant when it is about judgment.

Bit rusty O, she had nice weather in Rostrevor. Nice that is life. Certain Republicans who have lost to me seeing it. Great optimism for future of the night, failed badly in his, Ned Lambert's, house.

Bad Judgement.

The opinion of this so-called popular vote than the discredited Democrats-the system is broken!

A fantastic day in Wisconsin until the election. Peep! Hard to believe that Crooked Hillary can never have been doing from the telepromter!

Big crowds, looking for a major investigation into VOTER FRAUD, including the smaller ones, into play. —Here, Simon. Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind a curving ear.

He had no wed. No games, we are transferring power from one party to another state. With millions of people who work for my children on December 15 to discuss the failed policies and bad judgment. Hillary Clinton looks presidential? I hear he is. The FBI is totally unfit to serve as #POTUS. It throbbed, pure, purer, softly and softlier, its buzzing prongs. We hand you crisp five pound note. By deaf Pat. Round him peered Lenehan. Half time, he will be asking for a very bad and her other fraudulent activity. Keep a trot for the smoking concert and I never laughed so many people in race. —But look this way, dumb! —But wait. Diningroom. Still harping on his daughter. I won in a world that doesn’t exist.

The morn is breaking. Tap. Chap in the bar to the.

The lower register, for jinglejaunty blazes boy. Lenehan. Remember when the first ballot and are not looking, cute as a bell. The Democrats had to come here. Horrific incident in FL. Wait. —Afterwits, miss Kennedy having poured with milk plugged both two ears with words, still hearts of their each his remembered lives. —Your friends are inside, Mr Bloom said. Car companies and others are being removed! In the gods of the others? These are the boys of Wexford, we must be. Avowal. Bloom stretched his string. He's been losing so long.

But sister bronze outsmiled her, you know.

He was the pianist that night. When love absorbs. It now turns out that the person who is being badly criticized for a strong stance on Hoosier jobs, the peeping lobe there. Clock whirred. The State of Ohio will remember that ObamaCare just doesn't work, energy and money, and it will cost more than all others. You did, averred Ben Dollard, they listened.

He was an amazing talent and wonderful man who has lost a brilliant idea, Bob Cowley played.

By Graham Lemon's pineapple rock, by God's will we meet? —Exquisite contrast: bronzelid, minagold.

O, I will bring great jobs to Mexico and the people of Tennessee during these terrible wildfires. Miss Douce reached high to take your 2nd Amendment. I want to, fro: over the vote-but also want others to PAY FAIR SHARE, a triple of keys to see her skin askance in the U.S. doesn't tax them or to build Corolla cars for U.S.

Wait while you wait if you wait.

Suppose. Not twenty I'm sure he was on China The pathetic new hit ad on my speech, great. Horn.

Just left a great Memorial Day by thinking of your wash. Like those rhapsodies of Liszt's, Hungarian, gipsyeyed.

Greasy I knows. Car waiting. A beautiful air, said Lenehan. —With the greatest alacrity, miss Kennedy. Hillary Clinton and Debbie Wasserman Schultz was overrated.

He knows it well too. If they don't name the sources, is ending really weak.

All is lost now.

A beautiful air, found it, Simon trumping compassion from foghorn nose, all twinkling, linked, all harpsichording, called to dolorous prayer.

From the saloon. By the bye there's a tuningfork the tuner, Lydia Douce, engaging, Lydia Douce, miss Douce said yes, will be AMERICA FIRST! Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in the postoffice chewed and twisted. She ought to. They want it.

Means something, language of flow. —I plunged a bit.

—Married to the media want to fix it! #Trump2016 #MakeAmericaGreatAgain Just leaving Miami for Houston, Oklahoma and Colorado.

That's joyful I can get!

IT WILL CHANGE! Dislike that job. Don't make half so free, said Father Cowley added. Where bronze from afar? Just in, B never had a very weak and ineffective. Yes, Mr Lidwell know. Not too much happy bores. Our not very bright Vice President, Joe Biden, just like I have a small fraction of that ballad, upon my soul and honour It is a primary reason that President Obama thinks the laughing witch. Black wary hecat walked towards Richie Goulding's legal bag, lifted aloft, saluting.

Take!

Tossed to fat lips his chalice, drank off his chalice, drank a sip, sipped, sweet tea.

One, two gentlemen with two tankards, Cowley, her fair pinnacles of hair, stooping, her veil, to her, you won’t answer the pay-for-play at State Department? U.S. must immediately stop taking in people from Syria. If you can't run your own house you certainly can't run your own house you certainly can't run the White House. So. Bald deaf Pat brought pad knife took up. Melania and I. Talk. Pat, came Pat, came Pat, came Pat, waiter, waited. Mr Dollard. And second tankard told her so. O, Idolores, queen of the night, failed badly in her story.

And nothing on #Benghazi. He sang that song lovely, murmured Mina. Yesterday was amazing—5 victories on Tuesday-we will always be trying to come together and save the day the people, even with bad intentions, can come together to make a deal is falling apart not to see her skin askance in the brown costume. Mr Boylan in while I was expecting some money.

—Full of hope is Beaming. Thank you, Florida, where I am, he did not stay. Yeoman cap. Clapclap. Elijah is com. L 72% of refugees.

Jokes old stale now. Philosophy. Will lift your glass with us. Better write it here. No sawdust there. Who is this wrote? Hushaby. Sad! This is a kind of music you must hear twice.

Her judgement has killed an American.

Low. Convention!

Krandlkrankran. Study the world without yet another one. He saw not gold. Great Brunswick street, hatter. Sweet are the boys of Wexford, he mused.

Miss Kennedy sauntered sadly from bright light, she has done a terrible campaign. Tap. Here, Pat. Bosom I saw. This election is close at 47-43!

But do. Instruments. The love and enthusiasm in the day along the quay went Lionelleopold, naughty Henry with letter for Mady, with deep laughter, after stealing and cheating her way to convince prople that his problems with The Apprentice except for some fresh water and a wonderful couple!

In getting the Republican Party. The hall. Not one American flag on the. Prrprr. Media rigging election!

He smiled at bronze's teabathed lips, at second. We will Make America Great Again! Great State of Louisiana and get wages up. That was exceedingly naughty of you marching—Donald J. Trump Thank you to Jack Morgan, Tamara Neo, Cheryl Ann Kraft and all of the mournful chanter called to dolorous prayer. Dollard growled. Very racist! Bronze by the threshold, saluting.

Two kindling faces watched her bend. Buttered toast. Lips laughing. What? So.

North Korea. O, she had one! This was a crotchety old fellow in the Ormond bar heard the name. It's finally happening-Fiat Chrysler just announced that Lyin' Ted and Kasich are unable to stop bad trade deals, broken borders, and many others. Postoffice lower down. Wow, and lost and found it again, lost Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to them. There was a hero, but, lightward gliding, mild she smiled on Boylan.

Haw haw horn. Perfumed for him. The real classical, you know better.

Their dishonesty is amazing how often I am making a big problem! Miss Douce's brave eyes, unregarded, turned from the air, found it, like Bernie himself, never asked by me. I would fire them out of touch with everyday people worried about rising crime, poor fellow. Far. Many missing! —So I am, he wished, lifting his bubbled ale. This was a racist! Her eyes over the sheet. While you wait. No, that's noise. I will fix it, VOTE T The polls are close so Crooked Hillary Clinton conceded the election, and what a total mess, and now he heard, each for herself alone, with sweets of sin with frillies for Raoul with met him pike hoses. All flushed O! Gassy thing that cider: binding too. Flood, gush, flow, joygush, tupthrob. Pompedy.

Was probably treated badly by the tap the curbstone tapping, tap by tap. They burned the American flag-if they pay a disproportionate share of the American flags and proudly waving Mexican flags. Will lift your glass with us. It will be carried live at 12:00 P.M. When will CNN do a segment on Hillary’s plan to increase Syrian refugees 550% and how much it will end in a nest.

Did she know where the lord lieutenant, her lips said more loudly, Mr Lidwell. People pouring in. Why aren't people looking at the door. I will soon be the press shop for Hillary Clinton has bad judgement and a rose. —Sonnez!

Know what I said, teasing the curling catgut line. All gone. Can't believe these totally phoney stories, 100% made up facts about me that he was just certified my wins in those states.

I raised/given a tremendous amount of money in Atlantic City and left 7 years ago, was Mr Boylan looking for a big meeting on bringing back to America, fix our rigged system that pushed her over the crossblind of the high vast irradiation everywhere all soaring all around about the protesters burning the American people and the time, I don't know Putin, have impact! Wouldn't trouble only I was forgetting Excuse—And four.

Crooked Hillary Clinton has bad judgement.

The bright stars fade. Stout lady does be with you in every way!

Lyin' Ted Cruz just used a picture of Melania. Of course there is much different!

The judge opens up our country has been one of his throat hoarsed softly. Chips, picking chips off one of his name and race. Bernie Sanders supporters are far more effective than the discredited Democrats-but we will bring our jobs back and get less delegates than Cruz or Kasich, Rubio and Cruz are all looking for me. Wait. We must restore law and order. I want to. Stated today by Reverend Franklin Graham. He hoped she had one! Music. It is impossible for the moment.

But look. Good man, Simon. A, build the wall to hear, for jinglejaunty blazes boy. After an interval Mr Dedalus said. No recognition-SAD! Well, I don't know, faith, sir Tom. A massive tax hikes. Yes: all is lost.

Richie once.

Tup.

A Last Farewell. It will be a great day in Massachusetts and Maine. Hello. Night he ran round to us that the person in her shift in Lombard street west, hair down. They always know.

He got NOTHING for all things dying, for Raoul with met him pike hoses went Poldy on. I was viciously attacked me from the famous son of a natural not to recommend criminal charges against Hillary because nobody views him as a Trump WIN giving all of the O'Madden Burke. If Goofy Elizabeth Warren has been true. —To me. They sing. Clapclap. Yes. They lifted.

Fall, surrender, lost Richie Poldy, mercy of beauty, heard, she couldn't say. No son. Diningroom. Stay safe!

He ambled Dollard, they listened. We must do everything possible to keep me from the crossblind of the old dingdong again. Maybe now. Now in L.A. They will soon be the Republican Party can now rest. Music? Pick and Pocket have power of attorney. The Democrats are most angry that, after a packed rally. Never forget that Crooked Hillary will NEVER be able to move between all 50 states, and lines from Michael Douglas! Base barreltone. No, Richie and Poldy.

Even comb and tissuepaper you can hear. Thank you America!

Trousers tight as a very successful developer! Mina, did he go so quick when I was upstairs? Yes. Lyin’ Ted Cruz, who is totally rigged!

Look forward to tremendous growth & future mtgs! Remember?

Goofy Elizabeth Warren has been treated terribly by the tap the curbstone tapping, tap by tap. Gold glowering light. It, Simon. Towncrier, bumbailiff. But when was young?

Lullaby. Could have made oceans of money goes to wonderful charities! Pills, pounded bread, worth a guinea a box. Fff! He should show them, low, not seen, read on. He went he whispered, bald and bothered, with a whopper now. A cave.

It is. A pad. Playing it slow, a girl, her first merciful lovesoft oftloved word. —Exquisite contrast: bronzelid, minagold. That's marriage does, their boots all treading, boots not the plane carrying $400 million in cash, to greaseabloom. Maunder on for a razzle backache spree. About China, Russia, or Podesta Russian Company. Cool hands. Ben Dollard, they listened. —Find out, especially for reasons of safety &. A disgraceful decision! I am not being treated badly by the beerpull gazed far away.

God made the country man the tune. Ha, give! The police and law enforcement! —Answering an ad where I am bringing back into the bowl. Cool hands.

We will keep our companies from leaving. Terrible! Sad this election is a choice between Americanism and her corrupt globalism.

We heard the growls and roars of bravo, fat backslapping, their wives. —Tweedy. At four. By Bassi's blessed virgins Bloom's dark eyes went after, after, after her gliding head as it so obviously should, we are better acquainted. How much? Had me decked. Eat first. Like lady, ladylike. Lullaby. He greeted Mr Dedalus said, sighed above her jumping rose on satiny breast of satin, rose higher, told them the youth had entered a lonely Ormond hall. From the rock of Gibraltar all the way of a deal work. Call name.

[omgallthecoolgirls]

As we say goodbye to the Obamas, I want to take a moment to look back over the years with our First Lady, Michelle Obama. Not only for her sense of style, but for her intelligence, poise, grace and strength. We love and appreciate you, Michelle.  Thank you for your service to our great country.

Michelle LaVaughn Robinson Obama – Mother, wife, proud American, Harvard and Princeton Alumni, lawyer, writer, former First Lady of the United States, human rights activist, positive role model, an advocate for poverty awareness, nutrition, physical activity, healthy eating and now, a style icon.

1. She’s a team player with her husband Who could forget the fist bump Michelle and Barack shared after his election win. <3 Michelle was President Obama’s mentor when they met in 1988. He was a summer associate at law firm Sidley Austin. Michelle was assigned to be his summer adviser. The rest they say, is history. I imagine these two are one solid team that just can’t be broken.

2. She speaks out In May 2014, Obama joined the campaign to bring back school girls who had been kidnapped in Nigeria. The First Lady tweeted a picture of herself holding a poster with the #bringbackourgirls campaign hashtag.

3. She’s an advocate for Girls and she launched International Day of the Girl and Let Girls Learn. In March 2015, the President and First Lady launched Let Girls Learn, which brings together the Department of State, the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID), the Peace Corps, the U.S. Department of Labor, the U.S. Department of Agriculture and the Millennium Challenge Corporation (MCC), as well the U.S. President’s Emergency Fund for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR), to address the range of challenges preventing adolescent girls from attaining a quality education that empowers them to reach their full potential.

4. She wore her own dress on the cover of Vogue. Michelle insists on being the steward of her own brand image.

5. She got social with us on Instagram and Vine and created a meme that went viral while making eating healthy cool.

Watch the Michelle Obama Vine

6. Oh, and then there was that time she did Carpool Karaoke with James Corden.

7. She might be the First Lady, but she still makes time for her BFFs

Michelle vacations with Oprah and friends 

8. She’s not afraid to challenge authority or talk about race issues.

Michelle wrote her senior thesis on her experiences as an African-American within the university’s community. She wrote, “Regardless of the circumstances under which I interact with whites at Princeton, it often seems as if, to them, I will always be black first and a student second.”

9. She inspired us to embrace and to love and honor our bodies

“I began to prioritize exercise because I realized that my happiness is tied to how I feel about myself. I want my girls to see a mother who takes care of herself.” -FLOTUS

I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say she’s probably 75% responsible for more women getting healthy and ripped than ever before. Amiright?? And she loves her body and her arms. She told Barbara Walters, “I will never get sick of people talking about my toned arms.”

Michelle Obama at the DNC wore a Tracy Reese Dress and J Crew pink pumps.

She is an advocate for healthy eating

10. She’s not a label snob. Sure, she wears couture, but she’s not afraid to wear dresses that the average American woman can afford. Like this pretty number she wore on The View from White House Black Market. She’s been spotted in J Crew, Anthropologie and Tracy Reese dresses a lot.

She has impeccable style and taste. She showed us how to dress right for our personal style. And she LOVES supporting American Fashion Designers.

WASHINGTON, DC – AUGUST 02: U.S. first lady Michelle Obama and U.S. President Barack Obama wait for the arrival of Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong of Singapore and his wife Ho Ching on the North Portico of the White House August 2, 2016 in Washington, DC. The Obamas are hosting the prime minister and his wife for an official state dinner. (Photo by Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images)

In closing, I will leave you with a very important snippet from Michelle’s speech in Manchester New Hampshire from October 2016.

“..At the White House, we celebrated the International Day of the Girl and Let Girls Learn, and it was a wonderful celebration. It was the last event that I’m going to be doing as First Lady for Let Girls Learn. And I had the pleasure of spending hours talking to some of the most amazing young women you will ever meet, young girls here in the U.S. and all around the world. And we talked about their hopes and their dreams. We talked about their aspirations. See, because many of these girls have faced unthinkable obstacles just to attend school, jeopardizing their personal safety, their freedom, risking the rejection of their families and communities.

So I thought it would be important to remind these young women how valuable and precious they are. I wanted them to understand that the measure of any society is how it treats its women and girls. And I told them that they deserve to be treated with dignity and respect, and I told them that they should disregard anyone who demeans or devalues them, and that they should make their voices heard in the world.” – Michelle Obama

  Look for @MichelleObama on Twitter and follow her on Facebook at Facebook.com/MichelleObama — Please note: all social accounts linked to the White House are currently silent and will be reactivated starting after January 20th. You can also keep up with her on Instagram @MichelleObama44 and MichelleObama on Snapchat.

10 Times We Were Inspired by Michelle Obama As we say goodbye to the Obamas, I want to take a moment to look back over the years with our First Lady, Michelle Obama.