The Worst of Sins.

Do sins come much worse than quoting your own blog? Not by much, I wouldn’t have thought.

I was in Greggs today and asked for a cheese and onion pasty (they'd just come out of the oven, so they were fresh and hot) and an egg custard.

‘It’s looking a bit dark outside,’ said the young lady serving me.

‘It’s a bit cool, too, when the sun goes in,’ I replied.

So far so good.

‘Oh.’

‘We’re in a polar airflow at the moment,’ I continued without pausing to consider either the opacity or pretension of what was bound to follow. ‘It’s coming by way of Svalbard, and it isn’t even bringing the aurora borealis with it. That would be some consolation at least.’

Too late, lad, you’ve said it now. The moving finger writes, and all that…

‘Yeah,’ said the girl in nonchalant fashion. ‘Just one egg custard?’