Get this. Last week I read a book by M E Braddon. Last night I picked up a book about the city of Fez (not Fez out of That 70s Show) and in its introduction the author explained his grandmother had been M. E. Braddon. That's a coincidence, and I mean that in the purest sense of the term, it's two experiences of the name M. E. Braddon. I don't believe in coincidences, except that they happen.
Yesterday afternoon I bought an album by Ariel and thence to Myers to buy some socks. The woman who served me said sotto voce, 'What's that!' I thought she was going to say, 'I had three children with Nigel Macara' but then she said 'Is that a record?' I had to concede it was. She then said, slyly, 'Does that mean you have a record player?' Rapidly calculating mentally, I had to admit we had three.* Lucky she was working in the sock section, because this knocked hers off. 'Three record players?' It really felt like, I can't believe you're telling me the truth, but if you are, that's the greatest news about 2008 I've ever heard.
Anyway I didn't know what to say and transaction completed I just said 'I recommend it!' and exeunted.
*Later, I realised four
2 comments:
oh I love that 'knocked her socks off' story, thank you.
Just minutes ago, over dinner That's So Pants and I had a conversation about vinyl and record players.
Bring Back Mono!
Then we couldn't remember whether Phil Spector was in gaol or not.
Good hyper-linking.
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