Sweet dreams are made of cheese
Who am I to diss a brie?
I cheddar the world and the feta cheese
Everybody’s looking for Stilton…
It’s good, isn’t it?
And it reminds me of the inventive ways used by some of the traders of Leicester in order to cash in on the city’s new-found fame - or even notoriety - as the re-burial place of Richard III. One of them - a camping shop - proudly displayed a poster which said…
Now is the winter of our discount tents!
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Five days after assuming the ‘title’ last week, Gertrude Weaver, of Arkansas, died aged 116. Our condolences to her family.
I think it would be better all round if I didn’t mention the name of her successor, just in case.
(NB: The curse of pedantic Victorian grammar...
I can't make up my mind about the infinitive I felt compelled to leave unsplit in the first line of this item. 'I seem inadvertently to have brought down a curse...' looks and sounds clunkier than its ungrammatical counterpart: 'I seem to have inadvertently brought down a curse...')
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Please don’t forget that our next AGM - the 46th - will take place in the cafe of Saltwell Towers, Gateshead, at midday on Tuesday 28 April.
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And so, all other things being equal, I’ll be drafting my next blog in that characteristically lilting Scandinavian accent. Tomorrow, I set off on my fourth Grand Tour and, as with the first three, I’ll be exploring a part of the world unknown to me (which is most of the world, when I come to think of it).
So, brace yourself Denmark, Norway and Sweden…
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* * *CONTACT ME
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