Fire engine red

Yesterday I strolled to the milkbar (= corner shop) to buy the paper only to find there wasn't a single one to be had. Visiting racegoers had purchased them all. Not really surprising, as the shop is only five minutes' walk from the race course, but still, tsk. I had to walk all the way to the Other Shop, which I don't like because it smells funny. But the walk there was good because I got to see the passing groups of people walking the other way to the race course: among them, three well-fed middle-aged men in expensive grey suits and chunky gold rings, walking together but all talking on their mobiles; a twenty-something man, slouched and short and wiry, wearing a brown suit and a pork-pie hat, who wouldn't have looked out of place sixty years ago; no women at all.

At the large house on the corner, there were four black LandCruisers in the driveway with a man wearing a black suit and a radio earpiece standing on the footpath outside. It was probably for a member of parliament or a celebrity (or a 'celebrity'), but it occurred to me that race meetings might also attract altogether, er, shadier characters, so I crossed the road and walked down the other side to avoid looking too curious. So that was my excitement for the day.

Today I have been looking at basins for the bathroom. It seems I can have a basin in any colour I like as long as it's white, which is annoying because the shower, bath and current basin are all cream. Why can we not have bathroom fittings in other colours? I'd get red ones if I could.