The blue headscarf I was wearing that day has grown purplish in places, the places that come right above my forehead, the places that are exposed to the sun at the perfect angle.
Three years, I've had of it.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Wednesday, March 09, 2011
England, my England!
Returning from a dinner in Eton where my host did different accents at the table, including several shades of posh, I get off at the train station in Reading and start walking to my friend's place. A Russel Brand type of English guy approaches me and says 'I know this sounds very strange but do you have 60 p?' I smile, and when he realizes I won't pay up he starts 'Fucking...' and stops to consider, possibly, to go for a racial one and then thinking better of it '...bitch!' he says. All is well with the world.
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