The simple red and white inverted triangle of the “Cedez le passage” road sign put me in mind of a festive merkin. It also put me in mind of stopping as it would be a bad Sunday indeed that included a collision with a tractor with merkin on my mind. I’ve never really got to grips with the concept of the merkin particularly as it pre-dates the currently fashionable full Brazilian. This being the case, wearing a merkin would be akin to wearing a wig over a full head of hair. The wearing of a head wig (where do earwigs come into this) is understandable in that it can change the appearance of the wearer for better or worse or, indeed, help to conceal their identity. In the case of the merkin it’s hard to imagine how successful its use as a disguise would turn out to be, save in relationships that involved very short men and very tall ladies who chose to meet in the semi obscurity of dimly lit chambers. A merkin on the mind is not an aid to careful driving. The “Cedez le passage” sign had set my mind racing through an area far removed from the navigation of narrow country lanes. Cyclists, walkers and oncoming cars all had narrow escapes as I careered along the road whilst mentally delving deeper and deeper into the mystery of the merkin. My mission of buying bread was nearly forgotten and on arrival at the boulangerie I made sure that my eyes remained downcast as I ordered my “pain cereale” lest la jolie boulangère noticed the merkins of my mind clearly reflected in my eyes. On my return I checked out Wikipedia to clarify any misconceptions I may have had on the merkin front, and it appears that there is no question that where there’s merkin there’s a great deal of smirking. It would seem that all things ribald could be covered by a merkin. Mentally exhausted by my research I needed sustenance and, it being around that time of day, I made the simplest and most delicious pan of sliced smoked sausage, intense tomato sauce and an egg from a nearby farm. This is as sexy to eat as it looks – now where was I?
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