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So what my theory is about is how a normal 1-2 hour journey out to our local cemetery/Ladywell Cemetery became the opposite.
When we were coming home after a short café break, we stopped to see something wrong with my scooter. The front wheel's first metal piece had a shard. We could not turn the wheel round and riding the scooter would seem virtually a risky process. This scooter I'm talking about is my first and only scooter as of now. I got it when I was 4 and a half in 2007. (I was born in 2003). So the conclusion means we could call the first incident '' Scooter resting in peace, 2007 - 2012 ''. Funny thing is we were coming home from a place full of dead people in graves.
(and two abandoned bus stops)
The second was short. All it was is that when we had came home I spotted the toe I hurt in February this year a few days after Nancy had cracked her head open (posted here) was healed up. To replace those two injuries (second being the grazed hip I had) I have two verocas. (Medical spotty thing on your foot, can't spell it)