Right, I have a confession to make. I have, in the last year or so since being in France, become a world class glass breaker. It's a nasty little secret I've been keeping to myself for a while, but after tonights latest mishap (er, and the one from two days ago) I thought it was time to come clean.
This condition has changed my life in various subtle ways. Choice of foodstuffs in glass containers is now more frequently based on the becomes-a-glass-when-its-empty factor than actual quality of product (to tell the truth, those nutella and mustard glasses are actually pretty sturdy), I find myself not minding so much that glass sets are sold in threes rather than twos or fours - I know a break will come along soon enough to even things out, I gaze longingly though shop windows at exquisite sets of coloured designer glasses, sigh sadly and move on. Whats worse is that I've had to face the fact that my disease is contagious, my boyfriend also has minor symptoms - which brings our combined average up to 2 or 3 casualties a month. I've tried alterantives - a couple of ceramic goblets, and more recently some wooden ones. The wood makes the wine taste a little strange, and one of them has tiny flaws in the grain which cause the wine to seep through, but I am content in the knowledge, as I tip the funny smelling wine to my lips and drip red wine all over my lap, that THEY WILL NOT CRACK IN THE SINK. Or maybe they will. My disease may cross all material groups for all I know. This never used to happen. I have lovely glass sets back in my stuff-in-boxes in Australia. But the longer this progresses, the more I wonder about the sense in unpacking them at all.
1 comment:
perhaps this is the universe punishing you for neglecting your nice glasses wasting away in boxes in Oz...? Or maybe it is a strange symptom of the new strain of bird flu?
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