The dripping of winter noses, and misadventures in time and shopping


I’ve come down with a head cold, which is a somewhat miserable thing to happen. I’d hoped Singapore’s heat and humidity would mean this would be one disease I wouldn’t suffer, but despite having my sinuses in a perpetual steam bath, I’m still bunged up, woozy headed, and dripping.

That’s right, dripping. Without a tissue clamped constantly to my face, my nose gushes watery mucus onto the floor, onto my stomach, onto anything that happens to be below my face. Thank heavens Felicity went to bed before my nose rebelled in this way. The last thing you want while rocking a baby to sleep is to look down and find you’ve soaked her.

This evening we’ve been doing our Christmas shopping, because like all organized people who possess a time machine, there’s no problem beginning this only eight days before the day itself.

Oh. Oh dear.

Well, we’re people, so one out of three isn’t bad.

I didn’t realise until tonight that, although Amazon has quite a nice mobile app, the shopping basket is shared between all the devices logged onto the same account. That means if you and your wife are trying to save time by shopping for two different people at once, it’s quite possible that when one of you hits the "Buy" button that you’ll end up sending dog toys to toddlers, or children’s books to octogenarians. Perhaps Jeff Bezos and his mob are trying to return some of the surprise and wonder to Christmas.

The other thing I found on Amazon was Belgian chocolates, available with New & Used offers. There is nothing so delicious as Belgian chocolates somebody else has used first, pureeing them into a food type that takes much less mastication. That is, assuming by "use" they mean "eat" and nothing more nefarious than that.

Some lucky, lucky person in my life may be receiving pre-owned confectionary. Will it be you? Who knows?

I also received two more of my birthday presents in the last two days, and a younger me would have been surprised that I would be so excited to have a Balzac novel and a pair of comfortable slippers. But then a younger me would probably have demanded a box set of Games Workshop Space Orks and a Judge Dredd compilation, so he has no right to criticize me from his lofty spot somewhere in the early 1990s. We should both be happy he didn’t get a motorcycle, I suppose.

That reminds me. I must fix my time machine yesterday.


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