Wednesday, November 05, 2008

The holes, a colleague and wonderful man.

1. Butter drips through the holes in my crumpet.

2. Debbie buys my lunch because I've forgotten my purse.

3. I come home to a hug; and 'My poor darling and her distraught early morning phone call'; and my summer shoes, the mould cleaned off, lined up under the bedroom heater.

White grapes, gothic novel and predictions.

1. This week's grapes are particularly good -- a little hard so they burst well, and then both sweet and sharp.  2. Before Nick comes up...