If your penchant is for flap front, you should rein your fetish in – yes, it’s a totally weird fetish in my book – until you get home, where you can make origami sculptures out of toilet tissue, should you so please. But when you’re in my house, you have to live by my flaps, strange as you may find them.
Category: That’s Life
I feel about Valentine’s Day the way Dickens’s Scrooge felt about Christmas. Bah humbug, I scream, when yet another card from a florist pops through my door, asking me to send flowers to my loved one. Bah humbug to the red hearts, ribbons and grinning teddy bears in every shop window.
Having come from a journalistic background in which I really HAVE met the smartest, funniest and most brilliant people, I was optimistic that I was about to encounter similar.
Thankfully, my world at 64 is very different from the one John Lennon and Paul McCartney portrayed in their song. And how different for `Lennon from the one he imagined. Murdered aged 40, he didn’t even get remotely close to 64.
‘You belong in Hollywood!’ my admirer enthused, having seen samples of my writing. ‘I love you already! You are the best!’ I was on that flight quicker than you could say Beam me up, Scottie.
What’s everyone got against beauty? At a time when women are being denied their very gender, this should be a time to celebrate womanhood, not consign it back to the box where it lay dormant for centuries.
I’ve reviewed countless numbers of TV shows relating to property; I shout at the screen when yet another couple on A Place in the Sun” have wasted an hour of my life, deciding, after viewing five properties, that they will return “in the future” (ie never) and go home to “discuss it with the family.”
Did we really used to live at this pace? Was stress embedded into our every waking moment? I am not the only person who took stock of life and started to reassess what it was like BC (Before Covid) and what it might be after. I still do.
It’s never been clear how they acquired their alleged wisdom. Arriving with presents of gold, frankincense and myrrh for a new-born smacks of idiocy to me.
Don’t be shocked by the number of dead animals on offer for human consumption; if it has a pulse, the Spanish will eat it.