Ayr nights

In my previous job I had devepoled a soft spot for Ayr, but the only value of these latest two shifts there was the income. For one things, the first has seen the referendum defeat; for another, I was, as the saying goes, “fucking freezing” on both; and lastly, between them water began again dripping from my kitchen bulb – for the third or fourth time this year. I’m told my upstairs neighbour is an old and a bit senile lady, so I expect one must make allowances, but it does get on my nerves.

 

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