Baroque Biscuit Tins

I'm chilling beside the new biscuit tin I today bought myself for the office (picture to follow). It’s a little thing but it makes me happy.

Otherwise, I spent my afternoon sitting in a cafe in Bangor, chatting on the phone to Ms. Baroque who had emailed me with important news to do with somebody using my name in vain. She’d got herself quite agitated about the whole business and soon had me agitated too. Visiting a cafe alone is a bad enough experience when you’re calm. You have to carry bags, trays, mobile phones, and, if you’re lucky, you get a table that only wobbles along a single axis. It much worse when you’re already upset because people have accused you of stupidity that goes beyond your usual brand of lunacy… Before I knew what I had done, I had knocked a glass over. It shattered around my feet and being barefooted – I often go that way when it’s hot in Bangor – I couldn't move. I was trapped in a corner, listening to Ms. Baroque excitedly explain the predicament and what I should do about it.

I’m home now and I’ve decided that I won't let the world bother me. I have my nice new shiny biscuit tin and that, for a Wednesday, should be enough for any thong wearing man.