They were the best of friends. You’d see them of a morning, just as the dawn was breaking, striding down the street sometimes hand in hand, sometimes their hands would be in the throes of an animated conversation about one thing or another.
Two old grey haired people. He was her best friend but she was his bestest friend.
They were their own mutual admiration society. She’d say you are a clever old man the way you write those stories and he’d say she was the cleverest because her’s made sense.
Now that the spring had arrived and the magpie attacking season was over they stepped out with renewed confidence. They were the ablest folk you could imagine.
There was nothing ancientest about them, they were very much up with the times and to suggest otherwise was to do them a serious disservice.
Occasionally they venture out on the balmest of nights but not often as they loved their 6pm Television program, From Blandest to Bleakest.
They were blest with good health. Both had the bluest of eyes. But they were the brightest pair of Octogenarians around.