I realised I live in quite a posh place this morning when I dodged a puddle on the pavement, only to realise that it wasn't rainwater, but red wine. The stones were ruby stained from cab sav (sounds a bit like sat nav). Shards of green glass gave the game away, and I imagined someone's dismay as a pleasant evening with a friend turned into an embarrassing, empty-handed arrival. I felt sorry for them for a short while until I thought they could have come out with a dustpan and brush and made the street safe for kiddies and old folk etc. The children would be in danger of laceration, the old folk were in danger of lying on their front,licking the pavement and being unable to get up again. Perhaps the glass was a red herring. Perhaps here in west London where we pay stupid amounts of council tax, the rain really is wine.
I suddenly feel the urge to buy a butt coming on. I must make haste to the B&Q 'stand and deliver' promotion (or whatever it's called).
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1 comment:
Wine-rain! That's something that doesn't happen enough.
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