My much-anticipated soft, cushiony mattress arrived this morning. It is ace in the extreme. After the delivery men left, I collapsed face first onto it with my arms outstretched and said, "Aaaaaah. Hello, new bed". I lay there revelling in its pillowy plushness. I was almost tempted not to put sheets on it because the fabric is so velvety soft and I love to stroke furry things (yes, I do like men with hairy chests).
But I did make up the bed with crisp new sheets and then I spent all afternoon sitting on it even though my flatmate is away and I have the run of the flat.
After I finish this, I am going to climb into my new bed for its maiden sleepage.
Hey, I've read that
This morning when I was walking along my street, I looked in the window of a house which is set a little below street level and I saw a book sitting on a side table which I have also read.
It's hard not to glance in their window when I walk past. It's a big window and it's right where I cross the road so I'm facing it. But it's also hard not to be curious about other people's lives and houses.
I sometimes see the man who lives there out walking his dogs along the river in the morning, but I don't think he knows I live in his street. Or maybe he does and he chose not to return my smile when we crossed paths recently because he thinks I'm some sort of peeping Tom(ette). If so, I have one word for him: blinds.
How good are crumpets? I saw someone eating them for breakfast in Centre Place on my way to work on Friday and I had to have some. Not only am I fond of crumpets, I really like the word.
It reminds me of a wonderful older lady I worked with once who used the phrase "to do your crumpet" to describe having a hissy fit.