Monday, 6 May 2019

Today's Sweet Toppings.

I’ve mentioned in earlier posts that I get very few knocks on my door. Well, I got one today at lunchtime.

Knocks on my door make me nervous, especially on a Sunday when it might be somebody trying to sell me the secret to finding a clear route through the pearly gates and a place among the heavenly host. I opened the door anyway, and standing on the threshold were two little girls – one aged five and one seven – bearing a bottle of scotch (unopened.) I spoke nicely to both of them and relieved the 7-year-old of the weight she was carrying. See what a nice guy I am? The full story is far too boring to be worth telling. Being approached by two sweet kids bearing Bell’s whisky (unopened) was the icing on a mud pie.

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The eggs in the blue tits’ nest box have evidently hatched because both parents are now engaged in flying madly back and forth carrying food on the inbound flight. Soon they’ll be carrying faecal sacs the other way. I watch them while I’m engaged in the tedious business of washing the dishes, which is another example of icing on a mud pie.

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The wild garlic in The Hollow is now in full bloom, dressing the earthen embankment in swathes of white drapery. It looks all quite spectacular, and do you know what it puts me in mind of? Icing on a mud pie. To avoid any confusion, I believe the Americans call icing ‘frosting.’  I’ve no idea what they call mud pies.

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