Pineapple and sausage.

from the gallery/yesterday

How was it?

The opening?

Yep.

The GRAND opening?

Yep.

Brilliant – there were crowds, laughter, people rummaging through piles of old clothes, white wine and red, music, singing, friends and family and a balmy night.

Cool.

Might even have sold a piece.

Nice.

And yours? How was the Mue Opening?

A disaster!

How come?

Not a sausage.

No one turned up?

No, the sausages didn’t arrive.

I thought you were having pineapple and cheese on sticks.

I’m afraid I ate them all before I got there; they were delicious! So I sent out for some sausages at the last moment.

Lincolnshire?

How did you know?

I saw you eyeing them at the market on Sunday.

I know! Who would have guessed that you could buy homemade Lincolnshire sausages round here?

It’s not Lincoln!

It’s not even England.

I like Lincoln.

You have a connection I believe.

My mum came from there, said the best thing she had ever done was leave the place.

You can take the girl out of Lincoln, but you can’t take the Lincoln out of the girl.

Tell me about it! We used to go there every summer.

They have summer in Lincoln?

They have Lincolnshire sausages! Who needs summer!

True.

So how many people turned up, we must have had about a hundred at ours.

None.

None?

Maybe they knew about the sausages?

I think they didn’t know how to get there; it’s not signposted.

It’s simple, all you need to do is use the ‘search this blog’ function, up there in the top left corner and put the word ‘Mue’ and everything opens up before you.

The stairs?

The corridors!

The entrance foyer?

The acquisition chambers!

The fourth floor?

Even that!

Maybe no one is interested?

That could be the case. But I think it’s more symptomatic.

How so?

People don’t explore any more.

Is this linked to Monday?

Could be, but that was you, not me.

You wouldn’t be you if it weren’t for me.

What?!!

I’m just saying.

That’s a scandal, I won’t take it you know, I’ll leave… I’ve done it before!

Yep, I remember, ok, cool down. Have a culpa.

Ice cream?

Ok.