Living in genteel poverty 2
Today, for the first time since I came here in January 2018, I did that thing that you're supposed to do when you live by the Mediterranean: Sat on the balcony and drank coffee.
It was really only to reward myself for having cleaned that balcony, mostly of the droppings of a certain tree I have in my garden. It's a Norfolk Island Pine, the most meaningless tree in the world. It is so tall and of such an 'impressive' (idiotic) girth that when people are in my (tiny) garden they can't even see it. It has no function except creating work for its victims with its incessant droppings. Yes droppings! They are not cones, but long, slightly slimy, torpedo - no, poo! shaped droppings. So that was the highlight of today. And talking of poo:
To be honest I've never understood the point of eating human poo. I know dogs have different tastebuds from us, but come on! I thought by moving from the countryside of Hong Kong to a city in Europe I would avoid al fresco human poo, but no. It's everywhere, and Koldbrann is on it like a Polaris missile. But I'm thankful that he eats it - when it's eaten it's gone. My old dog, Piles (a pain in the arse) used to roll in human poo.
And thus I finished a whole blog entry without mentioning the word Corona.