What has happened to the jeans market? I couldn’t find
Wranglers or Levis anywhere, so I
had to buy a pair of store jeans. Still, they fit better than my current best
jeans.
Thanks to Rob at the New
Vic Theatre
for the company, computer advice, coffee and chips.
When I told Ahdia (who I’ve mentioned before on this blog)
about my fatigue symptoms, she asked ‘Are you sure you’re not pregnant?' If I’d
thought her cognisant of my earlier dream post, I would have said that the
question fell a touch short of diplomatic.
I noticed that the serving wench I talked about once (the
one with auburn hair) has unusually lively eyes and an extensive – though not
unnatural or exaggerated – array of facial expressions. That was today’s main
revelation.
The ice cream van over there sells ice cream a damn sight
cheaper than the one that never turns up in Ashbourne. So not only can I not
get a vanilla ice cream in Ashbourne, it’s bloody expensive to boot.
Most of my driving these days is done on rural roads and in
small towns. Driving in urban sprawl requires an adjustment of style and attitude,
and I find myself becoming aggressive and impatient. I often stoop to yelling
at other drivers things like ‘why not use your f***ing indicator, you f***ing
bozo?!’ That can’t be good for the soul, can it?
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