Thanks, John.

Sadly, though, it's not shiny-new. It has had one previous owner (who drove it carefully to church and back of a Sunday).

Probably one too many for Lucy, though, who likes the smell of new leather.

ah, but how will she know?

Well, if the car's ever been driven to Syria, Lucy will probably smell Ma'arrat.

Sorry, Brian - I wasn't ignoring you - we crossposted.

Your tapioca story brought back a memory of mine. A friend and I applied for a grant to "buy time" to finish works in progress and we'd agreed that the one who got it would treat the other to a slap-up feed. I was lucky, so the meal was my shout. As we entered the restaurant a voice whispered "good evening, Miss" and my friend recognised the waiter as a lad she'd been instrumental in dismissing from the school she worked at. As we sat down, I advised "don't have the soup!"

I was thinking, Brian. The sharing of bodily fluids is often an act of love. Or wasn't it that kind of school?

John

My school, indeed, was rather Rugger-y,
Which often leads to acts of buggery;
But as for me, I hated all such sports,
And bums in scrums provoked no lustful thoughts.

From Auguries of Innocence by William Carlos Williams


To see a world in a farmer’s shed,
and a heaven where raindrops quicken,
glazing a wheelbarrow painted red,
and eternity in a chicken.

Marion - that made me snort my tea down my nose! Yes!

"... and eternity in a chicken" - superb!

Mind you, I once bought one that was nearly that old.

Marion, I love it.