Look... I don't do trading...

ok?

The nearest I get, is to idly perusing

the pink paper on a Saturday.

Then I only look at the pictures,

even the lovely Robin Lane Fox

is so up his own hoe I get irritated.

A male Maggie Thatcher does a little light

preaching on the merits of the joys of gardening.

Or put another way instructing the gardeners 

as to his wishes. 

Keeping this in mind...

you can imagine me falling off

my new dfs sofa on reading that one 

of my posts got 41 comments...

Yes you read it right

Forty one comments!

Now hold tight, I'm going for the sympathy vote here:

this is me of 51 faithful followers

of whom just a very loyal few, comment.

I read with envy other peoples' blogs

who have squillons of followers and

trillions of comments.

It's not that I'm envious, mind!

Much!

This morning looking at my stats

my post on Lettice's death...
('Dad always said...'
12 October 2013)
 flagged up 

all these comments.

I discovered on looking that I've been

Forexed

or put another way

F****d!

Now I do realise that I must come across

as a bright forward thinking intelligent

member of the human race... but still?

(Biggest fib ever)

Why me?

And why at my pain at losing my much loved

little faithful friend?

Now Forex followers of the world,

I openly admit I'm cringingly grateful for comments

however...

XXXX off!

Go back to you charts and candles and

may I suggest you Quantitatively Ease them up your

arse...

not lit naturally!