Like A Bottle

Hannah was up early this morning and warned me that I was not, under any circumstances, to set one foot outdoors as the yard was like a bottle*.

But what about my paper? And I need milk.

Don't worry. I'll get your paper and milk. Anything else?

Nothing else.

The yard stayed iced over all day and like a good obedient person I remained indoors the entire day. It wasn't that much of a hardship. I could get used to having my paper and milk delivered.

Saturday is the one day I buy a newspaper - the Guardian. It's my weekly treat. I didn't get it last week as I was in Leitrim and Yer Man has it anyway.

The last time I bought the Guardian myself was two weeks ago in the local Spar. I picked it up and went to pay. There was a very nice-looking gentleman in the queue before me. Trim, neat white beard, clever-looking. He must have spotted my Guardian and started muttering to himself, 

Oh yes. Paper, paper, paper...

And left the queue.

And came back. With the Daily Mail. I was so disappointed in him.

As I drove home I told myself this story. The Mail wasn't even for him. It was probably for his ancient, racist mother.

*Like a bottle - covered in ice