A high wall with an iron gate in the middle of it bears this notice:
"These premises are protected with non-drying anti-climb paint. Unauthorised entry will result in damage and contamination to you and your clothing. KEEP OUT."
I rub my finger against the painted brick. It leaves no stain.
One of my favourite tools in recent years is a plastic garden bucket. It is not at all like a conventional bucket; it has two handles, and is much wider. You can squeeze it to pour liquid or shake out earth or compost and, because of its width, it is ideal for collecting weeds and trimmings. Also, because it is so wide, in the last few days, it has collected a considerable amount of rain water, which I comfortably transfer to a watering can.
While Heidi is in a clothes shop, I notice some white roses in a vase in the window. Are they real? Surely not. But there appears to be water at the bottom of the vase. I ask the shop assistant. "Silk," she says. What about the water?" I ask. She picks up the vase, and tilts it. The water, too, is ersatz, some sort of transparent plastic.
Post a Comment