IT was like Christmas morning in Halifaxjohntowers, at 2.00 am I looked under where the Christmas tree was a month ago, no sign, disappointment to say the least.
I peeked out of the window to see if there were any tell tale signs, none.
Dejectedly I returned to my blue and white satin sheets with a speck of a tear in my eye.
No sign yet I said to the delightful Mrshalifaxjohn, Mmmmmmm, was the well thought out retort.
Snuggling down with my miniature Halicat in my arms I barely slept, rising (getting out of bed) at 6.00 pm to again search, excitement gradually turned to disappointment and then dejection, reaching for my citalaprol tablets (one three times a day) I decided to take all three to see if I could be lifted from what was now a foggy sea of despair.
"Will he arrive?" I despairingly whispered to Mrshalifaxjohn, and then I realised the wisdom of her words, perhaps the words that all of us are thinking.
Without lifting her head, framed in her blue and white tresses, she responded, and these words will live with me for an eternity.
" I couldn't give a f--k.
Wise words indeed.
