The Girl has drawn me a picture of 'The Whole Wide World'. It consists of: our street (a.k.a. "England"), DisneyLand Paris, and the two bakeries down the road (one does good bagels, the other does good croissants).
In a rare quiet moment earlier (I think she was gouging out my lipsticks with her fingers under the kitchen table at the time) I heard some very strange noises coming from somewhere in our building. It sounds like:
(a) A very brief Gregorian Chant
(b) Faulty pipes
(c) An old man calling for help
But I am reluctant to think it might be (c), owing to a previous attempt to save the life of someone whose life did not need saving. For more on 'Rescuing' please see the Mock Duck.
3 comments:
Right. I won't be able to sleep now, wondering if there's an old man lying on the floor with a broken hip, but everybody ignores him because they mistake his cries for faulty pipes.
*sob*
Leena, I promise it's not the old man option! The only men in this building are (a) The Australian, who is sprawled out next to me, hips intact, (b) a weedy middle-aged specimen who makes Victor Meldrew look like Pollyanna (c) a rather attractive film producer, aged 50ish...actually, he does have a limp, maybe it's a dodgy hip!!
Nah, it's the monks or the pipes.
I'm more worried about the monks...
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