Wednesday, October 10, 2012
The poltergeist returns.
2:42 am. The smell poltergeist returns. Somewhere deep beneath us the three hundred year old septic tank is signalling that it's very much alive and well. The Rickety Old Farmhouse suddenly pungent with the smell of honey-menthol throat lozenges. ' The font ', dosed up with pain killers after four hours in the dentists chair, sleeps through it. Time to talk to the plumber.
No sign of the upstairs dishwasher and its faulty interruptor. So much for the electricians faithful promise to have it installed and working by our return. No sign either of Madame Bay having been in to clean. The house still sporting the evidence of our hasty five in the morning departure.
London geared up for Christmas . The shops full. Bags of Christmas coffee and tea on the shelves. Is it too cynical to think that Christmas tea is exactly the same as ordinary tea but with a seasonal 50% markup ?