Paul cuts the mustard

I pedaled up towards Knowle just before lunch in the sunshine with the Grada licking my ear drums. I was to meet a man to discuss the birth of a board with 70's stylings for Bali and beyond. What would he know? I rode on firm recommendations this was the bloke to see about such matters. Who was this cat who'd been hackin foam from this pit since '86? Shaping for something over thirty years, those eyes have seen the evolution of species.
She's going to be beautiful. I watched the wobbling template flap still with a slap onto the blank. Heard the graphite's low-pitched whine and it scored blackly across the foam. Masking tape held the hinges of spectacles while the air hung resinous, sweet stinks of stale cut polyurethane and open jars of quietly congealing pigments.

Two weeks for a man to give birth. It shall be done. 6'10 round pin volan twisted weave single 7" fin... Shape? What shape rode the son of an Earl? It becomes apparent the Viscount Deerhurst rode for the Lightning Bolt team in the late 70's; his untimely death resulted from a severe episodic abnormal electrical activity in the brain. I'm niggled with the irony.

Listen, incoming, a bolt of inspiration.

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