A soft summer breeze
Was stroking the trees
And cooling the air
By about ten degrees
There, now: a ditty with a pragmatic slant for once. But it
was exceedingly pleasant.
* * *
I’m getting used to this French coffee, and I think I know
how I might make acceptance complete. I’m drinking it out of a mug at the
moment. Isn’t one supposed to drink French coffee out of a bowl? Or at least,
isn’t that the Gallic way of drinking it? And don’t you think that if the style
were to be emulated, the full experience might be accentuated? I must ask
around the charity shops in Ashbourne next week to see whether any of them have
coffee bowls.
I grew up in the heart of the British ceramics industry, and
it was always said that tea tastes much better out of a China cup than an earthenware one.
* * *
I was reading some comments on an old blog post earlier, and
I realised something. Making the transition from being acquainted with a person
to actually knowing them can come as a result of a single look in the eyes, or
physical gesture, or statement of preference, or small flight of imagination.
It can be the key which unlocks the door to a deeper level beyond the surface
persona. I could offer a list of examples, but I don’t think I will. That sort
of thing is private.
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