The great Easter shutdown has begun; the exodus of happy Britons leaving their (already sunny) shores for (slightly too) sunny climes (e.g. slightly further along the M4) always amuses me. Every year, drive in, drive out. Why leave when the weather's just getting warmer? Oh yes - don't shut the country down - I wanted to go for a swim today - the one day this side of Christmas they decide to shut the pool. Argh.
A bright yellow sign attached to a streetlamp outside my flat directs unwary pedestrians to a nearby 'Magyar Templom' - code for 'Secret gathering of endocrinologists attempting to take over the world by squirting everybody with several billion milligrams of troglitazone.' Or, rather, 'Hungarian church' - for those in the know.
We are all like small tubes of pasta (Penne), floating in a saucepan...then somebody lights a flame. It suddenly starts to feel nice and warm. Oh - look! Bubbles! Let's relax and float around. Hang on a second - ouch - argh - that's - ack. Before long, encased and buried 6mm under chicken and pesto. The moral of the story? Notice the small things, like 'Magyar Templom' before it's too late and life boils over.
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