The secret of happiness
Oct. 16th, 2006 07:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
todayiamadaisyThat's it: my life is complete. Who would have thought all it would take is a PDF splitting program? I had need to purchase A-PDF Split for work purposes today, and I can highly recommend it. It only does one thing, but, goodness, it does it well. It took me all of five minutes to download, install and register it and then split the document I bought it for, and then considerably longer to open and split random PDFs on my computer just for the fun of it, and longer still to gather the others round to demonstrate what a marvellous little program it is. I do so love things that just work.
Passing the pretentious homewares shop while out for my lunchtime stroll I noticed that out the front was a white wicker basket lined with red fabric and filled with large, fabric-padded letters. I was torn, let me tell you. On the one hand, I find the prententious homewares shop rather... well, pretentious, but on the other hand, I love large letters. I have a large metal letter Q on top of the piano, as well as framed embroidery of an Illuminated manuscript-style A. I was very taken with the blue floral V I could see on top of the basket. I walked to the corner lost in thought: should I go back and get it?
As it happens, I didn't get a chance to decide, because at the corner a woman with a German accent called from across the road. "Excuse me! Excuse me!" Being the only person around, I turned, and met Wagner's Brunhilde. The woman was fortyish, very tall and substantial - not fat exactly, just solid. She had ringlets of golden hair down past her shoulders and an imperious manner. She was on crutches and was followed by a shorter, thinner, balding man laden down with suitcases and travel bags. They were coming from the direction of the hospital. "Where can I get a cup of coffee?" I gave her directions to the friendly café opposite the office. She sniffed. "Where can I get a cup of coffee on that street?" She waved a crutch at the corner, and I told her there was a café at the end of that block too. "Danke". She strode off. She held the crutches in position, but didn't use them. They swung with her arms like pendulums. The man trotted along behind her. I was going that way too, but I crossed the street so I could watch the passage of this most magnificent personage (I also didn't want to be nearby if she decided she didn't like that café). At the end of the block, she stopped and peered in the window of the café, looked up and down the street, then nodded for the man to open the door for her. He had to put the bags down to do so.
On the way back I met a man carrying a container filled with large punnets of strawberries. He was going along the street, selling them door-to-door in the offices and to anyone who passed him. I bought a punnet. Back in the office, Leeanne and Brian had a punnet each too. "I should have asked where he got them," said Brian. "They might have fallen off the back of a truck." They taste nice though.
Passing the pretentious homewares shop while out for my lunchtime stroll I noticed that out the front was a white wicker basket lined with red fabric and filled with large, fabric-padded letters. I was torn, let me tell you. On the one hand, I find the prententious homewares shop rather... well, pretentious, but on the other hand, I love large letters. I have a large metal letter Q on top of the piano, as well as framed embroidery of an Illuminated manuscript-style A. I was very taken with the blue floral V I could see on top of the basket. I walked to the corner lost in thought: should I go back and get it?
As it happens, I didn't get a chance to decide, because at the corner a woman with a German accent called from across the road. "Excuse me! Excuse me!" Being the only person around, I turned, and met Wagner's Brunhilde. The woman was fortyish, very tall and substantial - not fat exactly, just solid. She had ringlets of golden hair down past her shoulders and an imperious manner. She was on crutches and was followed by a shorter, thinner, balding man laden down with suitcases and travel bags. They were coming from the direction of the hospital. "Where can I get a cup of coffee?" I gave her directions to the friendly café opposite the office. She sniffed. "Where can I get a cup of coffee on that street?" She waved a crutch at the corner, and I told her there was a café at the end of that block too. "Danke". She strode off. She held the crutches in position, but didn't use them. They swung with her arms like pendulums. The man trotted along behind her. I was going that way too, but I crossed the street so I could watch the passage of this most magnificent personage (I also didn't want to be nearby if she decided she didn't like that café). At the end of the block, she stopped and peered in the window of the café, looked up and down the street, then nodded for the man to open the door for her. He had to put the bags down to do so.
On the way back I met a man carrying a container filled with large punnets of strawberries. He was going along the street, selling them door-to-door in the offices and to anyone who passed him. I bought a punnet. Back in the office, Leeanne and Brian had a punnet each too. "I should have asked where he got them," said Brian. "They might have fallen off the back of a truck." They taste nice though.
