... but I stopped. Now I'm a dad, and may blog again...

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

'Fish Cakes' read an official looking sign, on a small side door to a multi-storey carpark I walk past daily, as I caught it from the corner of my eye. I'm a fan of fish cakes, of course I am, as I think we all are, so my attention was quickly drawn. A good fish cake, or even the promise of a fair-to-middling one, requires ones full attention.

So I looked upon the sign, the 'Fish Cakes' sign, to discover to my dismay that it actually read 'Fire Exit'. Tediously, predictably, 'Fire Exit'. Disappointed, and having no specific interest in fire exits besides a general approval of them as a concept, I turned away. Immediately as the sign re-entered the corner of my eye it returned to reading 'Fish Cakes'.

It's a truth we all need to live with and the fact is that these things happen. Minor, constant and almost imperceptible disappointments. I wanted my usual seat on the bus, I had to sit somewhere else. The vending machine at work short-changed me by five pence. I haven't trimmed the nail on my left big toe for some time and over the last two days I have put large holes in three socks. I wanted fish cakes, I received a fire exit.

But before I had time to contemplate any of this I had taken two and a half more steps, could no-longer see the lateral-ocularly dimorphic sign, and was just realising I wasn't feeling particularly partial to fish cakes. And thus all was right with the world once more.

Of course, no I have been dwelling on fish cakes for some time. About the length of time one might spend considering them in the final two choices of a particularly difficult menu. So now my stomach rumbles, and I wonder what to have for tea, knowing full well that I live in a house currently devoid of fish cakes. Sad times.

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