Still life with quiche and Bob Dylan.
I saw probably the least ambitious airline in the world the other day, Brussels Air, flying to Brussels from Birmingham. Where else could they go? The above snack formed another part of the same day's life affirming experiences, the vanilla and honey smoothie providing the overall nadir, the book provided some unexpected laughs. The Higgidy quiche came with a little poem inside the carton by way of explaining the bakers philosophy or justify killing pigs or something, it was printed upside down light brown on mid brown. Anyway the pie tasted quite nice and here's an example of the poetry.
Higgidy, Piggidy Pie
Oh my, oh my, oh my
Your insides are herby
Your outside is curvy
And all of you tastes divine.
On the plane home the guy next to me appeared to be having a bad day. After reading his book for five minutes he spent the remainder of the flight leaning forward with his head in his hands almost in the brace position. Perhaps he disliked the current Flybe background muzak, currently Pink Floyd's "Comfortably Numb" and a song by Take That I don't recognise played on a fuzzy loop.
Today the Mac returned home after a nifty piece of electronic resurrection and exploration. Welcome home. I picked it up this morning in Edinburgh, city of trams, potholes and more empty coffee shops than is surely healthy for the market. As I wandered the streets I braced myself for the shock of the impending rapture, on the hour, every hour but God didn't turn up. It was a bit of a relief that nothing really happened; so the grass got cut and the weeds got pulled. I'd hate to be pulled up into the misty blue bliss of heaven (or down to the fiery pit of hell) knowing that the power of the dandelions and clover had won the day back on earth.
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