A Lack of Daisies.

Winehouse Festival/Saturday.

Monday, fist day of the week, first day of the rest of your life….

You ok?

Feeling a bit turquoise.

Turquoise?

Well, can’t honestly say blue, but I’ve certainly got a touch of the magentas this morning.

Could be the rain.

Could be, I don’t want to get up. I mean…

Don’t go there.

I know; I’m resisting.  What was it I read today, that quote from Pink Floyd? 

“Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way.”

That was it! I want some chocolate but I’ve only got 85 euro in the bank and I emptied the piggy bank yesterday just to buy some fruit.

Just! Fruit will get you through times of no chocolate better than chocolate will get you through times of no fruit.

Fat Freddy, again! You really like him.

Seminal influence. 

Is that the right word?

Influence?

Seminal? It suddenly sounded rude.

Sounded? Are you saying this out loud?

Of course, how else would it read like a conversation?

No one DOES read it, I keep telling you.

Rivers does, she told me.

Talking of Rivers, she was in the market yesterday.

I know! Talking about sandals!

Did you have the same thought I did?

I did!

Rivers with daisies – if only she had bought those sandals, the world would be a different place.

That’s the problem.

The problem this morning?

Yes. The world should be a different place.

Hang on a minute – that should be you saying that not me, and I’m not sure it is; the Rivers interlude may have re-routed us. Oh, it WAS you, i got confused.

Let’s say the Rivers tributary may have confluenced us, it sounds more aquatic.

I think there should be an apostrophe on Rivers somewhere.

I do to, but then we would have to know our grammatical rule. And you know what?

Judging by the fact that it’s 12.46 and you are still in bed, I think I can.

I can’t.

Be assed?

The world needs more daisies.