...I walked through my old front door for the first time in an age.
The door, heavy and unlubed creaked on its hinges and took some mighty thrust to ejaculate the heavymound of newspapers and junk mail which had accumulated under the letter slit.
Under a quilt of cobwebs, dust and heavy funk, I could make out my old furniture - the old Edwardian globe given me by Alex J Walker, the fine oak drinks cabinet left to me by Great Uncle Ricktawd Rambling before he lost his face in the Boer skirmish and, most lovingly of all - my old antique gramophone.
I put on Ayn Rand's best accordian melodies and lit myself a pipe - ease myself back in nicely.
RB
