After some lean days of cakelessness, there were sweets today, and so I took some of the shinily wrapped treats back to my desk. They are not labelled. This is how I came to be eating a banana flavoured toffee, unable to spit it out for reasons of office ettiquette and the malign adhesiveness of the confectionary. I can't go back and get another one to take the flavour away because I can't remember which colour of wrapper hides the death-taste. You'll have to imagine that I've inserted the appropriate tag.
I like this, which is from a list of Edinburgh tips by Simon Munnery in
The List:
"If you see a queue, join it. If you don't see a queue, start one. After all, history has proven time and again that groups of people in lines are never wrong."
Last night I saw Kristin Hersh, which was simply beautiful. She's doing a spoken word sort of autobiography thing, interspersed with bits of her songs. It was sweet and funny and really quite gruesome in places. Her husband (I think?) came out at the start and told us that it was okay to clap songs if we wanted, but we didn't have to, and okay to laugh if we found it funny. So we did.
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