Oh my good god, part 2 of my life saving Twitter story ‘Francois’ now has it’s sister part. Read part 1 here, https://worldofsheds.wordpress.com/2010/03/06/francois-part-1/
Of course, you’ve read it. I know this cheri. You probably read it every day, just to validate your existance. You might read it to your boss to secure a promotion at the polystyrene cup factory. You might sing it, like a song, to someone you hope to entreat to be your aggressive lover.
When I feel that raw, dull ache, I know Francois is hard at work to break down the wall I have built. It’s a dry stone wall. He hates walls. He held a fondness to deconstruct them with naught but a crudite in his elegant hands. I think of his aristocratic sneer & congugate verbs.
Everytime I pass a disabled toilet with radar access, a brick is removed. It’s very obtrusive. Especially as you can see inside the bog.But is it he who is deconstructing the wall or do I deconstruct it with my own gnarled beaks? It’s him. I told you that at the start.
I loved the way his thyorid problem made his eyes bulge alluringly, like frogspawn in a pond. The more they bulged, the closer he was to me. I shudder, like a biro and think about speaking english in a foreign accent.
The manure farmer strayed from his watch, and all my hard work fell around my ears, like quadratic equations.
The farmer had claimed me in our most vulnerable point of our relationship. When we’d split up. It’s difficult to sustain your relationship when you’ve split up. The not seeing or speaking to each other really takes it’s toll. That’s how the farmer weedled his way in, like a weedle…
Let me tell you how it began…