True Story

After a hard half hour on the Hoffmiester (my name for the allotment. It’s a long story) I waited for the bus home. As I have no shed I have to carry stuff back with me, so there I was with walking trousers still stuffed in wellies and a fork in hand.

Asks the man standing next to me: “you been gardening?”

Well, duh.

Not funny I know, but I like it.

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