A grey, monotonous sky is broken by a tattered hole. Blue shows through it for a moment, but it quickly closes.
In Sainsbury's a short, round man, walks slowly past me as I wait on the far side of the checkout. He wears a dark blue cap and a light blue shirt bearing the company logo. He is carrying two transparent boxes of fruit salad. He is whistling the theme of the toreador's song from Bizet's Carmen.
I put my head out of the front door and breathe the late afternoon air. It smells of rain and wet vegetation. In the distance I hear the contented cooing of doves.
2 comments:
would that be bizet's carmen miranda ?
Reading your post today brought back a memory for me, which I thought I'd share.
My mum is a cellist and when my grandad died (11 years ago) she wanted a slow melancholy piece of music from Carmen played at his funeral as the coffin was brought in. Unfortunately, the tape was set up in the wrong place and instead, the march of the toreadors boomed out. It actually made the whole experience much less sombre, and we all had a good laugh about it.
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