Views over my garden wall this morning -
I went to Bakewell to get some odds and ends, and in the Deli found myself explaining to three American women the difference between a Bakewell tart and a Bakewell pudding. They bought the pudding because I told them they could get a Bakewell tart from anywhere but you have to come to Bakewell to buy a Bakewell pudding. When I bumped into them later outside another shop, I almost, almost told them that if they went to the Bakewell Bookshop they could buy a signed copy of a novel set in Bakewell – namely, BUT I TOLD YOU LAST YEAR THAT I LOVED YOU. I couldn’t get over the almost, though. Do you think I should have done?
Now it is 11.47, and I have just spent a blissful half hour sitting on the sofa in front of the log burning stove, reading the Saturday paper with a mug of coffee in my hand, while Dave played me Christmas carols on his electric guitar. This afternoon, I may start work on with this…
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