Like Spitzweg's poor poet in his humble garret, I don't mind as long as the books are interesting and the water isn't dripping on my head and has soda in it, not to mention Gordon's Dry Gin.
In the two weeks that Padma has been in Melbourne I've made just one quick dash into town to buy the barest essentials, and, being a radio-man, turned the telly on just twice to watch VERA and SHETLAND.
I still have plenty of unread books but am down to my last piece of Mon Ami French camembert, some wafer crackers, and the last pack of Con-tinental French onion soup - 'made with responsibly grown onions', it says on the package; French onion soup wrapped in bullshit - but I will not go into town for another quick dash into Woolies until late tonight when I pick up Padma at the bus. Two birds with one trip and all that.
And then it's time to pour myself a very large gin with very little soda.
P.S. Padma's just phoned from the train. She's on it and on her way to Bairnsdale where she'll change over to the bus so, unless there is a de-railment or flat tyre, I'd better shave and shower and make myself hu-man and my way into town. But first I'll have a very large gin - straight!
