Come Follow the Bland.
Sometimes, a
thought will enter my head that is so mundane that when I catch myself thinking
it, I realise just how dull I have become.
I had two such moments yesterday, both in quick succession. I was making leek and potato soup (one of my few specialties) – and as I chopped up a leek I thought about how it clearly a member of the onion family.
I mulled over the similarities for a good few minutes before I realised what I was doing.
I’ll usually also chop up a couple of small potatoes to put into the soup, but as I was making a large batch, I decided to use just one big one. I couldn’t believe how much easier it was to use the peeler on it; I made a mental note to remember this for future reference.
I guess this is what happens as you get a little older; the small things start to get you through the day. My life is littered with these moments; I daren’t list too many, for fear of tarnishing my public image.
Oh, go on then: just one more.
The other day I was walking through town when I passed a large shop that had recently closed down. The property has recently changed hands and the shop has since been gutted in the process.
For weeks the windows have been whitewashed out; now, on walking past, I noticed that masking had been removed. I couldn’t resist a little peek in.
“Bloody Hell”, I thought, as I gazed around the abandoned premises. “That unit is massive.”
The time has come for my personality transplant.
I had two such moments yesterday, both in quick succession. I was making leek and potato soup (one of my few specialties) – and as I chopped up a leek I thought about how it clearly a member of the onion family.
I mulled over the similarities for a good few minutes before I realised what I was doing.
I’ll usually also chop up a couple of small potatoes to put into the soup, but as I was making a large batch, I decided to use just one big one. I couldn’t believe how much easier it was to use the peeler on it; I made a mental note to remember this for future reference.
I guess this is what happens as you get a little older; the small things start to get you through the day. My life is littered with these moments; I daren’t list too many, for fear of tarnishing my public image.
Oh, go on then: just one more.
The other day I was walking through town when I passed a large shop that had recently closed down. The property has recently changed hands and the shop has since been gutted in the process.
For weeks the windows have been whitewashed out; now, on walking past, I noticed that masking had been removed. I couldn’t resist a little peek in.
“Bloody Hell”, I thought, as I gazed around the abandoned premises. “That unit is massive.”
The time has come for my personality transplant.
