Closer Than Close

Today's been a nearly day

I nearly got a photo of a man and his three dogs at the Lidl, we had a chat about how much he loved them, how much they loved him, he went away with his 4 tins of Scrumpy Jack 'for the journey' . Nearly, except I wasn't carrying a camera.

I nearly got a photo of a taxi driver who looked like an extra from Saturday Night Fever and the festival's not even on.

I nearly didn't send the email to one of our management team that asked him if he was being deliberately obtuse and told him that he knew the answer to his question because he was well aware that I'd already circulated the blah blah blah to the whatevah.

Went dancing tonight and was told I was 'too near'. Ooops.

The item I bought on ebay last week nearly fits. It will soon. ish.

I nearly got an appointment at the doctors about my red red red eyes. But they were closed (the surgery not my eyes). I'll try again tomorrow.

I nearly opened the front door for the cat in time for it not to crap in the hall.

I nearly cooked a proper dinner tonight but instead I'd bought a packet (yip) of Ainsley Harriott (that's what I said) from said Lidl. It was 79p and was actually pretty nice but nowhere near big enough.



Delia's book here 'How To Cheat At Cooking' is a good book, not about cheating at all really, it's mostly from scratch but the cheating bit is using some short-cut ingredients.

Closer Than Close, Rosie Gaines, 1995