When I brought the Blackstone back into town there were watchers on the bus. A timetable man and a radio guy. They were ok - nice to me - recognised the brand of my shirt. On the way back I went and sat beside them and put the sone on the floor between us. They didn't know what it was. Weighs more than I do so moving it around, on and off the buses in a rucsac, wasn't easy.
As the bus went round fast corners the rucsac slid about the aisle and I held onto it with the shoulder straps. The timetable man alluded to the late 'Papa' John Philips autobiography and a song he had written 'Nobody's Getting Fat (except Mama Cass)'. The man must have thought that described the situation entirely.
Rock must be dry now and I'll brush the last of the grit off of it, over the weekend, and will find somewhere where the experts can go and prod it !
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