It's all on account of the priestess using a very bad word in an email recently. Entrepreneur. The word ‘entrepreneur’ is about as bad a word as words can get to somebody like me. It’s a Trump word, a Branson word, a Murdoch word. It smells of sewers, sanitary requisites and city whizz kids.
So what do I do when somebody uses such a word in the hallowed halls of my presence? I send them away, of course. What else is there to do? But priestesses are not that easily despatched because they’re very good at suggesting that maybe you’re being a little unreasonable, even though they don’t actually couch it in those terms. Priestesses are surprisingly difficult to get rid of, and the worst part is that it doesn’t take long to realise that your life would be a whole lot poorer if they weren't.
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I have a mushroom left over from the vegetarian chilli I made yesterday, and intend to use it to augment the vegetarian-ravioli-on-toast which I propose having for lunch tomorrow. So there you have it: life’s bounty wrapped up in a single mushroom. How profound is that?
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