So Much For "Can't Go Wrong"

Yearning for the remembered freedom of the 70s I decided to recapture the rapture.

Dug rusty bicycle entombed during Clinton Administration out of garage, rode out like a bird in the skyways, hit pothole, buckled wheel sustaining cuts, bruises and sprained wrist. Developed nasty rash from gaudy xmas-tree star I had glued to my forehead.

Undeterred, donned a large conical hat and a somewhat threadbare kaftan from University Days, and made way to work using public transport, whereupon was written up for "violations of dress code" and given verbal warning re: unacceptable hair grooming.

Currently out on bail, following trumped-up charge of assaulting a swan.