So, time to begin. Are we all sitting comfortably, aardvarks not too tight? I know it can be awkward this time of the year when chins and elbows run with
sweat… er… rain.
We were young and we wore trousers like there was no tomorrow, but we were wrong about that. Now we have only cheese… cheese, and those memories. Shall I wear the vest again? You could light the candles.
I could have been just as Norwegian as any professional badger organiser. I could have jumped high in the air, happy as any salesman in a strawberry field, if only, if only I'd seem that armadillo dancing at midnight.
Shall I get the eggs out? We could dance until dawn. I already have the spatula prepared. We could dance down these streets, laughing at curtains and smiling sweetly at every vicar we meet. I shall become a shop assistant and wear flowers in my underpants.
Now it is Tuesday again and I must bend over for you. I see the broom handle is already lubricated, and you are wearing the traffic warden uniform.
One day we will look back on this and it will seem like any other Tuesday that smelt, faintly, of cheese.