Sunshine on the edge of the Common.
When I buy some leeks from the convenience store in Grove Hill Road, I break the tops and bend them over so as to fit them in to my shoulder bag. The owner, who once lectured me on the indiscriminate use of plastic bags, breaks off his telephone conversation in a language I can't identify, to say in English "well done," as he hands me my change.
This morning on the radio I distinctly hear the Mayor of London, Boris Johnson twice speak of "jump starting" the housing market in London. At least, I think to myself, he hasn't said "kick start", which every body else says nowadays; and I feel a ridiculous glow of pleasure. But the glow quickly fades when I read, this evening in the London Evening Standard, a report on the interview, which falsely attributes to him the phrase "kick start". Perhaps it was intended to mean the same thing (though of course it doesn't), but what is so irritating about it is that the forceful image of someone starting a motor bike engine with a stamping motion of his booted foot, has become meaningless. Most often now, you could say start or restart and convey the same thing more effectively. I was glad of "jump start", because it seemed fleetingly to refresh the metaphor. But I defer here to Barrett Bonden, who will know all about jump starts and kick starts and the machines to which they used to apply before you could, as I believe you can now, push-button start them.