While packing up our
supermarket shopping at Aldi a dish, procured earlier in the morning,
inexplicably leapt out of one of my wife’s bags on the worktop and shattered on
the floor sending fragments to all points of the compass, resulting in a call
for an assistant and brush to sweep up; she has previous form, though last time
the shattered item was a large jar of pickled eggs (and boy don’t those
slippery sob’s travel some distance) but to be fair that was a long time ago –
actually a lifetime as then she was heavily pregnant with the boy and today’s broken
dish was destined to hold nibbles at his imminent eighteenth birthday party.
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