Success is assured, if we put our noses to the wheel and concentrate.
In my case, that means finding someone with whom to snuggle.
Someone shorter than five foot eight and a half inches.
Who is also significantly younger than me.
And cute as the dickens.
Yes, that is a very realistic idea. I am sure that wonderful women of precisely that description are lining up somewhere just hoping to meet a stubborn middle-aged Dutchman, who smells distressingly of old-fashioned pipe-tobacco, and has too much vocabulary.
I'm probably better off finding some more books to read, and also discovering more places that serve Hong Kong style milk-tea.
Plus a selection of scrumptious baked snackipoos.
Nobody likes smokers anymore, and most unattached young ladies will, instinctively, pinch their noses while passing, en route to fabulous shopping somewhere that I don't go.
Once you hit the tweedy years, life is all about hot beverages, tobacco, and a good book. Several good books. A veritable pile of them.
If you find someone who likes that too, fine and good.
But it isn't very likely.
Miss, would you like to come home with me and view a humongous stockpile of pipe tobacco? There's enough for both of us.
In case society collapses.
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