Living the Lines

As I write this the left side of my vision is gradually clearing. The ripple show is subsiding. The headache that replaces it is not going to be fun. But that's an aside...

This weekend I ate out three times. It's expensive but addictive. I saw a lot of friends, many of whom I don't get to see very often, on account of their living in the Northern and Southern Wastes. So yeah. Food inspires me. No. That's wrong. Good food inspires me. Bad food inflames me. Either way my brain juices were forced through a sieve. I was exposed to a dizzying array of dishes. The goodness was extracted and forced inward, again. For myself, I had a passable (if horribly expensive curry), the largest pub shepherd's pie that I've ever seen and a Golden Hog. I can tell that last one caught you. It's a wild boar burger with a slice of caramelised apple. Stupendous. It came with salad but I felt compelled to compliment it with a lime and banana milkshake (that actually came with a chunk of lime in it) and what is possibly the second densest brownie I've ever consumed.

So. Lots to think about. Lots to get the juices flowing (brain not stomach). So I spent the weekend living the lines. The opening lines to be exact. Everything I saw, everyone I spoke to became part of something. I'm not sure how, why or even if it was worthwhile. It was a sub-conscious thing...

• "Just as Henry was coming to think of Martha as being worthy of one off the wrist, Henrietta walked into his life."
• "I could have sworn you were twins five minutes ago."
• "Wormwood Hex didn't like his nose."

It goes on... None of them are good. But that doesn't matter. They're a start. A start is all that's really required.