I wish I could keep my mouth shut. I really do. Not only that, I wish I could NOT write the things that I do. But it’s impossible, and the fact, that in my opinion, mature men are so boring, is one more example of things that I wish I could NOT write.
One of my last missives was concerning a gentleman friend, who’d committed several crimes against brushes, and generally pissed me off, though not to the point where I’d banished him to the ‘ex’ friends heap as he continues to give me plenty of ‘content’ with which to create witty and amusing missives for your (possible) entertainment.
Don’t get me wrong. He’s a nice man, a very very nice man. But bloody hell, why are mature men so boring. He’s turned 65, and though I will never meet her, as she’s currently propping up a very new and shiny headstone in Highgate Cemetery, I think he’s turning into his Mother, which brings me nicely to the reason for my story.