It's a real tree, top to bottom, root to tip, shedding joy all over the psychedelic carpet.
Who would choose a carpet like that?
The last remnant in the shop, beloved of cheapskate private rental accommodation.
A landlord, basically, that's who chooses carpets like that.
And those print-outs on the door are computing history. From a BBC micro and printer, courtesy of my former employer, a day-care centre. When I say 'courtesy of' that only extends to bringing home the prints.
Three of us shared this rather ropey house, a former nurse, a former care worker, and another still employed in that role.
This was probably the year of the Guinness quiz offer in The Cremorne where you could win a free pint of Guinness if you got all of the three questions correct on the voucher that was handed to you over the bar.
Just rub with a coin what you thought was the correct answer and a cross or tick was revealed beneath.
Unfortunately for the Guinness empire they hadn't noticed that incorrect answers could be easily erased with a pencil rubber, leaving the correct answer behind.
No one should ever be forced to drink that much Guinness.
I only chucked out the remaining fifty or so vouchers a couple of years ago.
Poor but
No, definitely pissed, which made the carpet much much worse.
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