Wet, wet, wet, very!

No, I'm not into retro music ... just describing my wait at the tram stop yesterday! The ten minutes I waited coincided exactly with a big black cloud being all too productive!! I had mistakenly decided that i) the tram was about to arrive (I must have just missed one, in fact.) ii) the cloud was going not coming - both of which mistaken conclusions led me to be at the tram stop rather than under cover. As a result I got soaked.

One object of the trip was to spend a voucher I had before it expired, which I did, but unfortunately not on precisely what I wanted - a top with some embroidery which would have been a change from plain t-shirts. They didn't have my size, so I got two more ordinary ones, one black (a girl can never have too many black t-shirts, and in the winter they come in handy as vests).

The other was to have a closer look at the new Waitrose. It doesn't have a great choice as it's only small. It is obviously geared up for the many office workers: the patisserie section is disappointing (cup cakes or cup cakes) with a larger section given over to filled baguettes, and it is the first supermarket I have been to where you can get a takeaway coffee. By this time my wet body was feeling chilly, too, so I had a mocha to warm up a bit (from Starbucks next door, so I could sit inside). Waitrose also, for some reason, has masses of fresh pasta and sauces to go with it, but not the smaller dry pasta I was wanting, nor much of a selection of ready meals. It has a huge space given over to tills, which does mean you get through the checkout quickly, but does not really have enough choice for a major shop: it's there for a useful top up on the way home and as such has a place.

Madam appeared on the scene to collect some things she had left in the conservatory: she literally cannot keep her hands off my garden and threw some gratuitous snide remarks at me along the way, so roll on next Wednesday when she is due to collect the pine chest. After that she will have no reason to be in contact (and if she tries, I will declare a pressing, urgent and irresistable interest in Aquinas, the Reformation or whatever!).

Now for some light relief:

What is the difference between an investment banker and a pigeon?

The pigeon can still put a deposit on a new Ferrari.