Entry tags:
St Peter's at the Checkout, and There Ain't no Two-for-One
More adventures in queuing. This time I was with my daughter in Sainsbury's. The queue was short, but she urged me to one that was still shorter. I demurred, since we still had five minutes to kill before we could pick up the passport photographs that were being prepared in the shop next door. "Anyway," I said, "I don't mind queuing. I quite like it."
"Ah, how British!" remarked the (English) woman ahead of me.
"We're all just queuing for the grave in the long run," I added, warming to the part.
"I should invite you to my party this evening!" she said gaily. "You'd liven the place up."
I thought of extending the metaphor on the lines indicated above, but before I could gather my wits the conveyor belt moved on, and we with it, to our final accounting.
"Ah, how British!" remarked the (English) woman ahead of me.
"We're all just queuing for the grave in the long run," I added, warming to the part.
"I should invite you to my party this evening!" she said gaily. "You'd liven the place up."
I thought of extending the metaphor on the lines indicated above, but before I could gather my wits the conveyor belt moved on, and we with it, to our final accounting.