I’d had a bit of luck on the gee-gees so I thought I take the missus out for some posh nosh.
The waiter minced his way to our table, menus delicately held in a white-gloved hand.
‘Madam’, he said, ‘may I suggest our carpaccio of Maldivian long-line caught yellowfin tuna with a Japanese tamari and freshly foraged wild garlic glaze fanning an island of avocado creme fraiche, accompanied by our ambrosial thrice cooked Maris Piper Frites and an English country garden courgette flower beignet?’
‘Regrettably, for you sir we’re unable to provided those burger things, or pizzas’.
Should have stuck to McD’s!
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting and Dale for the photo.
My friend Rosey was telling me about an ornament she bought as a gift for her Grandad’s ninetieth. Being fragile, she covered it in bubble-wrap before mailing it. She was horrified how much it cost to send.
She saw a girl clutching a helium balloon which was straining skyward, and had an idea. If bubble-wrap was filled with helium, packages would be lighter!
I said if her bra was filled with helium, her boobs would sag less and she’d weigh less too! I got a slap.
Then she adopted her profound expression and said, ‘every day’s a gift. that’s why it’s called the present.
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting and for providing this week’s picture of a gift shop in Wilmington NC (thanks also to Google!)
He climbed stairs to her apartment clutching a bouquet of roses, red roses. In his pocket, a small velvet box. He let himself in.
‘Hi honey’ he shouted.
No reply, silence. But she was expecting him, surely. He came round every Tuesday evening.
The bedroom door was ajar. Why? .She always insisted on keeping it closed. . It creaked as he nervously pushed it open. .Something didn’t seem right.
Everything was gone. Robe doors gaping, her garments vanished. Yawning drawers, empty. Her precious diary was missing from her bedside cabinet. The dressing table lay bare, the pots and bottles of colours and smells gone. He bent down to breath in a little of her fragrance. For a second he thought he saw her, just there, sitting on the bed. He smiled, wiped away a tear and she was gone.
His phone rattled and bleeped. ‘New message’ it said on the screen. Fumbling with the buttons, his heart pounding, he stared at the message. ‘Sorry’ it said. Just one word, ‘Sorry’. He pressed reply and typed a single word back. ‘Why?’
He stood trembling, the phone clutched in his shaking hand. It burst back into life. A new message. ‘Sorry’ it said, just one word …