At about 10 last night, after drinks with my friend Chestnut, I dropped in on k. and d. who were sitting on their front verandah drinking wine. Yes, we're all frightfully sophisticated. I was there to pick up half a loaf of spelt bread. ["It's spelt b-r-e-a-d," says k.]
When I wandered in the front gate k. asked what was in the shopping bag.
"I got some bras..."
"Oh." She didn't seem too interested (and I didn't expect her to be).
"...including a slutty red one!"
k. lunged at the bag. "Let me see!"
She inspected it by the low light coming from the house onto the verandah. "That's not slutty, hb! It's sensual."
Slutty, sensual - hazelblackberry is all things to all people!
Where was d. in all of this? Closely inspecting his toenails, paying no attention to proceedings. Sometimes he can be such a sensible lad.