For two weeks it has clung to the inside of a stainless steel thermos flask. It has been filled with water and left to soak, it has had boiling hot water poured onto it from a kettle three times. Today we conceded defeat and threw out the flask. It is official-my wife’s homemade carrot and coriander soup is officially the strongest substance known to man.
I’m sorry Mr Darwin, but six and a half weeks summer holidays were never part of the natural order. We mess around with nature and we screw things up.
I overslept until 6.40am. Won’t sleep tonight now.
The Summer Solstice is actually in summer this year. Meteorologically speaking.
I just read this, in a review of Death Of The Poets, by Paul Farley and Michael Symmons Roberts:
‘ . . . as one psychologist is quoted as saying, “being a published poet is more dangerous than being a deep sea diver.” Versifiers are absolute martyrs to anorexia, agoraphobia, epilepsy, dipsomania, manic depression, paranoia, broken hearts and self-slaughter.’
Think it’s time for a career change.
I wish my wife would stop getting the kids cups with pictures on them. I’ve just spent five minutes trying to clean off a juice stain that turned out to be the blush on a baby duck’s cheek.
Should have gone to Specsavers.