1) Walking to Russell Square through an untimely monsoon, I saw two chinese men walking side by side. One was holding an umbrella between them. Unfortunately the umbrella was held too high, and the men not close enough to each other for it to keep any rain off either of them. The thought that sprung, unbidden into my brain? 'That's exactly why communism doesn't work.' My brain isn't as clever as me, but it is occasionally funnier.
2) The only tin of devon custard left in sainsbury's was badly dinted along the side. I screwed my face up involuntarily and ducked down to check if there were any other, less battered, cans. Then I caught up with myself and thought: why did i do that? Was I afraid that the custard in this tin would be bruised, perhaps? Was I worried that the can wouldn't fit into the large collection of aesthetically perfect cans I haven't got?
3) My search for aesthetic cordiality continued as I wrote the title of this post. I couldn't possibly have just had two things, could i? No one would be interested in just two things. They always say you should have three things, don't they. Two things, as I'm sure nobody just thought, is okay, but I was left feeling as though I wanted just a little more. Now, if it had been three, I feel I may have been left charmed and amused, but with two I just feel a bit incomplete.
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1 comment:
I have no idea how I found your blog, but it's fantastic stuff -I've just started RADA (though not on the acting course). Makes for very interesting reading!
(I think everyone does that with tins. It's worldwide madness).
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