* * *
Isn’t it odd how the hair on the crown of your head which
you can still run your fingers through magically disappears when you look in
the mirror?
* * *
The cheap shop in Uttoxeter is almost devoid of real coffee
at the moment. They have lots of the instant variety, but the only proper stuff
they have is a single brand of medium strength. To my mind, medium strength
coffee belongs in the suburbs, which I don’t, so I’m currently running down my
last three week's supply of Café de Paris. I like the packet as well as the
coffee. It’s red and has lots of French words on it, not the least of them
being Intense writ in large letters
at the top. I’m going out on a limb a bit here, but I’m prepared to hazard a
guess that intense is probably French
for ‘intense,’ only said in a funny accent to confuse the English.
* * *
The blood blister I got where the pliers bit me is now a
neat round black spot close to the base of my thumb. I look as though I have a
plant disease caused by a fungus.
No comments:
Post a Comment