Thirty years ago, Marseilles lay burning in the sun, one day.
Yeah?
Well, right nows it’s bloody freezing mate!
A blazing sun upon a fierce August day was no greater a rarity in Southern France then, than at any other time, before or since.
And what’s more I’ve got a stalker!
Sort of.
I’m not sure what to do about the temperature - the bath won’t empty, the washing machine will, but only over the floor and the toilet won’t flush; I have all my jumpers on together, I’ve lit a fire inside my car and I’ve painted my nose with deep heat ointment.
Everything in Marseilles, and about Marseilles, had stared at the fervid sky, and been stared at in return, until a staring had become universal there.
The stalker, however, is posing more pressing problems - though it’s nor really a simple case of staring; staring I can deal with.
I quite like people staring.
Well, it depends who it is, and whether I have my hat on, which gate I’m leaning on etc - but you catch my drift…
I’m not sure why this stalker has gotten it into themselves that I need saving but they have decided, with a zeal that is impressive, that I need to be dragged back to the early nineteenth century and educated.
About Dickens!
Hardly a minute goes by without me getting an e-mail explaining how improved my life would be if I digested David Copperfield or Oliver Twist.
They say I have to get reading to save my soul!
Starting with Little Dorrit.
Strangers were stared out of countenance by staring white houses, staring white walls, staring white streets……..
Like I said, It’s white round here at the moment, freezing white, it just won’t go away. The temperature was minus 13 yesterday morning and struggled up to minus 4 in bright sunshine, it’s enough to drive you staring mad!
Maybe I’m being targeted by Dickens Birthday Celebration Spam?
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7 comments:
hairdryer on frozen pipes
or just patience, then celebrate with numerous baths,
dont need the washing machine
cold temperatures kill dirt.
I bet it was cold in Dickons time
hope you survive
keep the hat on...warmth in!!
frozen loo, now thats big stuff
And the stalker?
George Bernard Shaw called Little Dorrit -- 'the masterpiece of all masterpieces' -- and said it was a 'more seditious work than Marx' Das Kapital' in its potential impact on social/economic injustice.
Signed,
The Stalker
;-)
i still think the frozen loo is more desperate
Yep, can deal with the stalker (give in, read Little Dorrit, be intellectual) but toilets!
Luckily the forest is wide....
mmm cold bottom, plus reading little dorritt in the forest, amongst the frozen leaves....sad image
It's certainly a bummer.
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