There was a spectacular sunrise this morning. The whole city was engulfed in a golden pink haze.
My mother called to tell a tale from her island in the sun. It concerns a British couple who moved into the neighbourhood. Very British. Very Hoity. The type of British that makes all citizens of previous British colonies or Commonwealth countries feel very insignificant, unworthy, and, the worst, very bland.
(Something to be equalled to attending a dinner party as the only non-French woman. French women are masters at giving other women The Look.)
My mother was all in a stir: it turns out that Mrs. Hoity Toity was, in a past life (twenty years ago), a porno star. My mother’s glee has no limit, “You can even google her and see it on the Internet!”
It’s it amazing how the verb “googling” has even reached the vocabulary of a 75 year old?