Nemesis

I was heading for the ICA this morning, enjoying the morning birdsong, when an awful yet familiar sound interrupted the natural beauty surrounding me. My features turned from one of delight to a disappointed sneer. In front of me, from around a bend in the woods, appeared my nemesis. As he passed me, I held my nose. His face was as sour as an unripe lemon; his moped as smelly as Delhi on a windless day. It was ghastly and took a while for the experience to fade away.

I haven’t seen him for a while. I hadn’t missed him, I actually thought he’d decided to obey the rules and not ride his poxy red machine where he shouldn’t. Some chance. He has to be the most awful human in Trosa.

Apart from him, my day was spent generally in lazy reverie, as I struggled to stay awake. I don’t know why I was so tired. Maybe the excitement of the show yesterday, maybe the fact that I can never manage to sleep in. I don’t know. I do know that watching the TV was a major struggle for any sort of concentration.

The biggest event of the day was Jason heading for London to start the next chapter in his Big Adventure. Then we popped into Trosa to partake of the splendid scrambled egg brunch at Tre Små Rum.

And, come to think of it, maybe the big slices of bread that the eggs came on, were partly to blame for my tiredness. When you reduce your carbs, having big old bread wedges can cause your eyelids to obey gravity and close.

It was, overall, not a big day. What was big was this sweet potato at the ICA.

Who is going to buy that? It would feed a family of five, easily, but they’d have to really like sweet potato.