A new form of relaxing therapy has come my way; the ancient art of meditative silver polishing. Believe me it is possible to get lost in a cloth as you vigorously rub away the grime and dirt from centuries of neglect and forgetfulness. Back in Victorian times this was all the rage for rich and poor alike (albeit the poor mostly polished the rich's silver as they had none, any firm refusal to rub meant they were sent to Australia) and probably soothed and calmed exploitative spirits preventing even more colonial abuses, chimney sweep deaths and "Ripper style" murders. Anyway when I started the course (?) the old teapot was black, it's now a kind of puppy seal grey.
There have been a few tears and dirty fingernails along this road to gleaming enlightenment, it's not a path suitable for everyone. My invisible guru tells me that this slow progress is simply a reflection of the current condition of my soul and that given time, patience and hard work I shall be redeemed in a silver shaft of blinding light (terms and conditions apply). If I endure these trials and reach some remote personal pinnacle of a bright metallic Nirvana I might also be granted a cup of tea that doesn't have the nasty aftertaste of Brasso or Silvo.
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