on losing a wallet with all licence cards required to live money keys and it being returned by ann of mcintyre book binders of ralph st beaconsfield after handed in by an unknown bloke who found it outside the factory
To Ann and the Unknown Samaritan,
One Diogenes was an old time Greek philosopher who came after another old codger from the same place called Socrates.
Another Diogenes was a cynical old bastard who preached self sufficiency and is alleged to have masturbated in public. Maybe the same feller.
A third one was a donkey called Diogenes that I whacked the rent on in a six furlong scarper in the third at Mooney Valley back in the fifties when I had a quid (one), on the say so of Frank Hardy - world champion worst tipster in the world, bar none. It got left at the post, the jock pushed right it up the arse of every thing in the race, it flew home and just when it looked like winning the mongrel fell off. Woulda weighed in light anyway. Thirty-threes it was.
Talk about being philosophical.
But an old mate out in the desert once told me of some geezer called Diogenes who travelled the world looking for an honest man, carrying a lantern I think he said. (It was pretty hot and the beer and dope had run out so we weren't quite with it). Died of a broken heart I think he said.
Pity about that.
He must have missed out on Ralph St.
Mind you, my life's experience is that the reverse is the case. For every dishonest one there's a thousand good 'uns. It comes down to the poor help the poor and the rich help themselves. In more ways than one.
I might have been to your place before, driving for 'Breakout' a while back. But a lot of bookbinder joints look the same.
Anyways. Thanks again.
To Ann and the Unknown Samaritan,
One Diogenes was an old time Greek philosopher who came after another old codger from the same place called Socrates.
Another Diogenes was a cynical old bastard who preached self sufficiency and is alleged to have masturbated in public. Maybe the same feller.
A third one was a donkey called Diogenes that I whacked the rent on in a six furlong scarper in the third at Mooney Valley back in the fifties when I had a quid (one), on the say so of Frank Hardy - world champion worst tipster in the world, bar none. It got left at the post, the jock pushed right it up the arse of every thing in the race, it flew home and just when it looked like winning the mongrel fell off. Woulda weighed in light anyway. Thirty-threes it was.
Talk about being philosophical.
But an old mate out in the desert once told me of some geezer called Diogenes who travelled the world looking for an honest man, carrying a lantern I think he said. (It was pretty hot and the beer and dope had run out so we weren't quite with it). Died of a broken heart I think he said.
Pity about that.
He must have missed out on Ralph St.
Mind you, my life's experience is that the reverse is the case. For every dishonest one there's a thousand good 'uns. It comes down to the poor help the poor and the rich help themselves. In more ways than one.
I might have been to your place before, driving for 'Breakout' a while back. But a lot of bookbinder joints look the same.
Anyways. Thanks again.
