Tag Archives: Toast
A question of toast……
I have recently been reading a novel by William Boyd in which one of the protagonists, a brilliant piano tuner, speaks of a certain sequence of chords and harmonies which, when played by a virtuoso, would, without fail, bring tears … Continue reading
French rabbit….
Happily, our electric toaster no longer toasts. Even when it did toast, it didn’t. There is something unpleasant and inept about toasters. In my mind’s eye I see floppy slices of artificial bread on a hinged platform, not unlike a … Continue reading
Beluga on dry toast saves me a fortune…
The fingerless gloves, so redolent of Dickensian misery, would be just the job today. They would be even more the job if they weren’t fingerless as it’s the tips of my fingers that turn to bloodless corpse white when the … Continue reading
First taste of summer…
For three successive mornings we have woken to sun pouring in through the windows. But winter habits being hard to shake off, ask any monk, on my way back from buying bread, I stopped at Claude’s house to order some … Continue reading
