All too often, Garden Chairs of Solitude follow the familiar, sad decline into habitual drunkenness.
Rex could see it was a classic fracturing of the space time continuum, but he'd probably still get blamed.
We got round building regulations by inventing a new category: The terraced garden-office cowshed barn garage.
As we stumble reluctant and afraid into 2024, all that connects us is how alone we are.
Also Happy New Year.




















