I met an Important Person today. In a crisp white shirt, clean dark trousers, shiny shoes (at least I assume they were, I didn't look closely), neat tie. We sat in a spotless boardroom in a high building and talked about Important Things. He had a cold. After a few sniffles, he pulled a hankie out to blow his nose. Deep brown. Wrinkly and scrumpled up. Perhaps the crisp white shirt etc is just
My lesson from Thursday night: when wearing a nice woven silk tie, don't lean across a table with a rough edge for a protracted period of time. This course of action may well result in the little threads becoming broken, loose, or otherwise completely stuffed up. Actually maybe not completely. It just looks a bit... well, wrinkled. At least from some angles. I'll see if I can batter it about wit
I got the slippers. Of course, since they don't have any holes (well, okay, just one hole, where I put my foot in), they feel almost too warm. It's been a few weeks since the new City Link toll road opened - without tolls until the government's sure they've won the election, of course (ooh, what a cynic) and I've driven on it a few times now. The thing that strikes me about it, despite all the ho
My birthday is next Friday, and this year I've found it necessary to ask for a new pair of slippers. All of us in my family let each other know what we'd like - because we know how hopeless we all are at buying things for each other. It's not that I've asked for slippers because I can't think of anything more exciting or dynamic or entertaining that I'd like for my birthday. It's just come to the
The fly. Useful though it is, it can be very embarrassing when forgotten. Just why is it that selective amnesia can so often cause one to forget to do up one's fly? This is a question that has vexed scientists ever since it was invented. There's meant to be a routine that we all do as we walk out the door. You know the one. The mental checklist: "Keys?... wallet?... handkerchief?... watch?...