Odd, random, meaningless lines...

And lo, it came to pass that two days after a pleasant Summery-feeling Sunday of joy, the default British weather of pissy drizzle returned to the lands in the East, and Rory was vexed.

‘Bruschetta’ is a word I often have problems with. I think of it, then I can’t remember if it’s a make of gun, a kind of bread or a moped.

We’ll be decking the garage out in over-enthusiastic, ultra-patriotic merchandise soon, in readiness for the football World Cup. Has four years really passed so quickly since the last one? We’ll be flogging the flag of St George, then having to clean them up two weeks later when England suffer an embarrassing defeat and men get drunk and throw them out in the street in disgust. You gotta love sports fans…

I’ve been thinking about weird celebrity couples that I’d like to have seen happen. Imagine what the offspring of these would have been like:

Paul Hollywood and Mary Berry.

Stephen Hawking and Angelina Jolie.

Lenny Henry and Angela Rippon.

Andre the Giant and Kylie Minogue.

Kermit the Frog and Paddington.

RC 24-4-18