THE YEARS

7s - Sweet, innocent, people you can be silly with.
8s - The first seeds of corruption are sewn. Some are starting to bulk, most are flopping blind in the first waters of adolesence.
9s - All is going wrong. "Rock" music, in whatever watery approximation they have stumbled on, has taken hold. It's no longer cool to read and listen to pop, you've got to be out of your depth now, it's preparation.
10s - They have their first thrustings and all the good work falls apart as they gorge on full-blooded responsibility.
11s - HELL. Cocky heads, cocky hearts, cocky cocks, cocks. They're off the leash and baying for blood.

Fortunately I've bagged myself some 7s. We played '4 is Cosmic' the other day and I was painfully reminded when I was the last in class to get the rule.

I am becoming friends with a Tory. Hmm, new territory. Well apart from that other time I was friends with him, but we just hated each other back then really. This issue could either go away or rear it's ugly head when we're watching To Kill a Mockingbird or some other English student shit.

How we do,
xxx