Lunch at the mall.
Our house only had mirrors, no looking-glasses. We have lunch in the middle of the day and dinner at night, but use serviettes and often eat pudding with a single implement. Confused? That's me.

One of my great great etc grandfathers was transported here for something or other. A few generations before that another forebear got condemned to death for stealing a bull from the New South Wales government and then selling it back to them. In pieces. Sentence commuted on a Christmas Eve by Lachlan Macquarie. Thanks, Lach old mate, you were a good bloke.

So being common I was eating lunch at a shopping mall the other day (sliced beef soup from the Vietnamese) when fiftyish woman sat down right in front of me.

To call her stocky would have been an understatement. A good head of red-brown hair, quite nice if it had been cleaner. She clutched a large sized malted milk, a bag of hot chips from the cheapest place in the mall and a container of that brown salty stuff they call "gravy".

She peeled the lid from the gravy container, took a glace at it and licked it - on the inside. Not once, five or six times, taking particular care with the crusty bits around the edges.

I didn't hang about to see if she got her money's worth from the inside of the container.
(Redemption blamed it on the Bossa Nova since, Fri 17 Oct 2008, 10:34, Reply)