An alarming development?
Four grubby scraps of thought were slipped under my consciousness this morning, none of them signed. They are reproduced below, minus the grub - Anna Tambour (guilty of committing 'The Shoe in SHOES' Window')
I do feel more extra- than inter-FYEO
as in '-ordinary'. Is that splinter-
ing to a faction
or airy reaction?
Anarchy malarky misprinter.
Think you would like to be explained?
Collops being unobtainable in these parts, my neighbours were a handy and delicious substitute. I prepared them as for collops, being especially careful to free them from beards and grandmothers. Finished with a thick layer of fried breadcrumbs and a go-over with the blowtorch, they would have been better than collops, if I'd soaked them longer first. Too much grit.
Mere pages detain me? б-!л%$зX-и$@!
Perhaps these are not feedback, but a dyspeptic mirage. I must report, in strict confidence, that the effect of the stories on my navel has been quite unnerving. It was always content to be an inny, but now that seems too in, and it doesn't want to be an outy. It has been trying to become interstitial, and that state makes it quite unstable. I feel as if I've eaten a ten-ton boiled pudding that's still alive. I might have to tie my navel in flannel if it doesn't settle back in and accept its lot in life.