Hello, Friends!
I endeavor, whenever I wear my worsted wool suit, to whistle a happy tune because I cannot help but be lured into a patch of thistle once I have found myself nattily attired. Jumping in with all fours is my peculiar, unexplained wont. I love the feel of nettles on my tough hide, but it's quite the chore for my long-suffering dry cleaner's operator.
He just smiles, and whistles a happy tune . . .
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am, was, have been