Suspicious

Today has been a busy day, and I’ve had a lot on the boil. Not literally, because I don’t have a stove here, but to say ‘I’ve had a lot going on in my mind-microwave’, pairing my cerebral and culinary states with greater accuracy, is not a phrase I want associated with my good name. I thank you.

I am therefore going to break up today’s main thoughts into three consecutive bloglets.

As I’m already cracking on with this one, this can serve as bloglet the first.

It concerns an incident that occurred on the subway. Actually it was more of a sighting than an incident, as the only verb involved in my role was a bit of peering. I don’t mind telling you that as peering goes, it was pretty full on, but regardless of the angles of my neck and eyebrows, the act of peering (or the art of peering as I like to think of it) is not the stuff great anecdotes are made of.

I’ll tell it to you straight:

There was a man on the subway wearing Lederhosen and carrying a baguette.

I couldn’t say which of us was more confused.

He wasn’t even holding the baguette in his hand, defiantly, as if to say

'Yeah, I’m going for a pan-European sort of vibe, and what of it?'

Not so, the baguette was in his bag, just poking out, mysteriously. If you want to know what else was in the bag, there was NOTHING else in there. I never thought I would see the day when I would describe a baguette as 'mysterious’, but there it is.

Fortunately, for that anecdote of less-than-Ustinovian sparkle, it serves as a helpful segue into my next blögchen, which regards The Sound of Music, and a difficult decision. Lederhosen agogo.