Monday, September 5, 2016

It's Sunday morning, and right now I'm supposed to be getting ready, as friends are coming over for food and a catch up. But my eyes are feeling like they're burning, and my head has the weight of a concrete ball, and is too heavy to lift off my pillow. But as I don't want to force my friends to see my unmade self, I'd better shift.

I shifted and I'm now pleasant smelling, dressed, but with wet hair. My lanky friend always looks lush. No pressure then. Thank fuck I had a shower, did my hair, and put on mascara then. The mascara was dying a clumpy death, and I happily remembered that another friend, is due back from America, ANY TIME SOON, and she always, without fail, brings me back a Mac mascara.

Our friends arrive, and then they leave. I get to keep the memory of their visit. Hugs. Kisses. Bomber jackets. Photos. Chatting. Didgeridoo playing. Or failing to play the didgeridoo. Sharing spit whilst attempting to play the didgeridoo. The didgeridoo hails from Australia.....and this leads to me thinking about Rolf bloody Harris. I shove memories of him OUT of my mind. Nasty nasty little shyte of a man. I mean, what the fuck was he thinking? Actually, I don't want to know what he was thinking. Did he think his victims would NOT be given credibility? Because he had an OBE? A CBE? An MBE? He must have thought he was so firmly rooted in Britian, that nobody would believe any victim that came forward. He must of considered himself UNTOUCHABLE.

So now he's in prison, where I hope he dies. I hope he dies realising that nobody is above the law. And those girls, any girls, or boys, are the only UNTOUCHABLE ones. 

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