Have
you ever found the habits of others not only odd, but at times almost stomach
wrenching? There were times when I
truly dreaded dinner invitations from a certain friend whose three cats were
allowed to walk the kitchen benches without restraint, sampling the food as
they did so.
Another
had to me what was an abysmal habit of recycling paper table napkins if she
thought they had a deserving design or their colour appealed to her. Oh the agony of evaluating last week’s
splodges of Extra Virgin Olive Oil and yesterday’s spots of Tabasco.
Perhaps
worst of all - does anyone recall the era of yesterday’s mothers whose
uninhibited spitting on embroidered
handkerchiefs to wipe the grubby faces of their offspring alarmed all
under-fives within arm’s reach? How readily
the half-forgotten but distinctive aroma of drying saliva on cotton springs
from the deepest recesses of memory to once more repel and disgust.
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