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Here you will find poetry, opinion and prose mixed together in roughly equal measure. Add one man available from specialist suppliers only. Stick everything into a blender for five minutes. Stir gently with a wooden spoon, then pour slowly into tall glasses with crushed ice.

No cherries. No little parasols. No curly straws. Let the drink speak for itself.

One of the hardest things to deal with as you get older isn’t the face in the mirror changing shape and becoming more lined, more experienced. At least, changes in size, shape and appearance aren’t the hardest things for me, not yet. No, the hardest thing for me to to deal with, to come to terms with, is recognising and accepting impermanence. Nothing lasts. Not me, not you, not family, not friends… and most certainly not material things. Dust to dust. Ashes to ashes. We all know the words but we rarely meditate on what they mean. We read of [...]

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