Sunday, September 20, 2009

Crispy, the collector and fresh air.

1. I press down the topping of a damson crumble with my fingers to make it go crispy during cooking.

2. Nick inviegles me into the Aeroplane Bookshop (he's after a copy of Biggles in the Baltic). The owner greets us -- he's always so pleased to see Nick -- and says: "Do you like models? Because I've got some."

Indeed he has -- there are unopened Airfix boxes stacked neck high. "One thousand two hundred," he says. "All from one collection." Apparently, it took up two rooms of a terraced house. "And then I made the mistake of looking in the attic. And when I went to open the cupboard under the stairs, the wife said 'Don't do that!' but it was too late, and they all fell on me."

I'm wondering if he's going to start a sideline of showing wives and girlfriends so they can see that their partner's collection is really not all that bad.

3. We change the bed, and the duvet still smells of fresh air and sun because we dried on the line two weeks ago.

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