I don't like pound stores. There's a kind of metaphysical griminess about them They make you feel poverty-stricken even if you're not. The lighting is dim, the aisles are oppressive, the music is intrusive.
Yesterday we bought two alarm clocks (two alarm clocks!) for 99p.
The sex drive is maddening. Be glad when it slackens.
But don't forget what it feels like to be in its grip. Otherwise you might turn into a moralist.
Ailz and I have spent much of this summer sitting out on the patio. Today is wet and getting wetter and we've moved our deckchairs into the kitchen.
I baked a couple of potatoes for lunch. Ailz said I could turn the oven off half an hour early and it would retain its heat and crisp the potatoes up a treat. She was wrong. Ailz doesn't eat potatoes because they have carbs in them. She had half a head of cauliflower instead.
I don't like Kate Atkinson's detective. He's a gumshoe. He's got a heart of gold (which real gumshoes don't) and I can't believe in him. Atkinson has been giving us lots of his back story and I'd rather she didn't.
My mother has just turned the telly on in the living room. It must mean someone's racing horses somewhere.