Saturday, October 29, 2011

Game, eat and shake hands.

1. Fifteen minutes of office larking around towards the end of the afternoon. We play a game where everyone writes a tune on a piece of paper and they are drawn at random, played on Spottify and we have to guess who picked what tune. The stairs is the only place that everyone can hear the music, and there's lots of looking over the bannisters to gauge people's reactions. It's strange to look down at upside down faces that are studying you right back.

2. It is gratifying to hear that Alec won't take pasta at nursery, either. I'm still a bit annoyed that he will eat their yoghurt from a spoon, though. At home spoons are just not done these days.

3. While we are queuing for chips -- the queue goes out of the door, down the steps and up the street -- a respectable looking grandfather type (he must have just left the pub because he smells rather of drink) stops on his way out, shifts his paper parcel to the other arm and shakes Alec's hand. He hurries off towards a taxi which has been waiting, lit up red.

Bud vase, tomato and the poem I needed to hear.

1. Among the faded cut daffodils that I'm putting on the compost heap there is one that will do for another day in a bud vase. 2. For th...