Thirty words, huh? The BBC Radio Today Programme has just drawn attention to a competition run by an on-line magazine called Smith, which invites six word memoires from readers. The idea is based on a $10 bet made by Ernest Hemingway that he could write a short story in six words. He won the bet it with: For Sale:baby shoes , never worn. From now on I shall venture the occasional six-word post. But not today.
A pegkingese sits on its owner's lap at a table outside the Ragged Trousers bar in the Pantiles. It is so pleased with itself in this elevated position that it appears to think it is a person. But this doesn't stop it making eyes at a Jack Russell terrier at a neighbouring table. After while the Jack Russell's owner stands up. Before leaving she lifts the Jack Russell and carries it to the Pekingese. "Say goodby to your friend then," she says, proffering her dog, face to face with the Pekingese. The two dogs sniff at each other's nose, not without, it seems, a certain embarrassment.
Tonight's supper: one of the stalks of sprouts from Saturday's markets provides the sprouts for a sprout purée to accompany grilled pheasant breast, the last pheasant of the season.