In the Pantiles yesterday, a gust of wind picks up a sunshade from outside a cafe and blows it into the air, where it turns a somersault and lands without hurting anyone.
Joyce tells me of a Thai restaurant in London, which was infested with ants on her last visit. When she referred to the invasion and pointed out that it wasn't much fun to eat surrounded by ants, the management said that the ants must have arrived with the lettuce.
From the train outside Charing Cross, I see a sheet of white paper shashaying down in front of an office block fronted with black glass.
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