Lord Roby has been ill recently.Very ill indeed.At the height/depth of this maladie things were a tad desperate.As I travelled home on the Monday evening, wondering why I was shaking all over, I decided to top up on fuel.I unwittingly gave my card in and then proceeded to drive away without paying.Upon arrival at my apartment it dawned on me that as well as a nasty virus,I was also experiencing my first attack of hypoglyceamia.The thing with this is;the tank is almost empty but like a 'replicant' you don't know exactly when the axe will fall.I searched in vain for Lucozade.None to be found. Off to the supermarket for Gatorade.On the way I stopped to get some cash.No card! Back to the apartment for loose change.Up 3 flights of stairs.Getting weaker by the second.Off to the local Co-Op.NoGatorade.Cakes perchance.Off to the pattiserie.All patisseries shut on Monday, as they are open all day Sunday.Getting seriously delirious by now.Stumbling along as if I'm pissed,mumbling cake,cake,cake!Then from nowhere as if by magic I am approached by two young very cute Belgettes.After explaining I was English and didn't understand a word she had said,the cuter of the two asked me 'If I thought her friend was pretty' !!! Ordinarily this may have led to a rather pleasant exchange.Except in this instance it was my turn to ask them if they had any sweets!! They didn't.I guess I may have inadvertantly hit upon the way to a Belgettes heart.Act pissed and repeat the word 'Cake' over and over.I returned to my apartment, Co-op cake in hand to find myself locked out!! Game Over.
1 comment:
Is it not the custom for men of your years to offer little girls sweets...you have a novel take on that exchange.....is cake a code for something devious that your lordship is a practitioner of?
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