Secondhand kiss

Nothing out of the ordinary happened today - well, apart from the Australian and Indian cricketers prostrating themselves on the field to allow a swarm of bees to pass - so I'll recount an incident from yesterday.

DL and I were lunching at a pub that does excellent schnitzels at a competitive price. Sipping at my lemon squash (yes, really), I noticed a faint pink lip print on the opposite side of the glass. I went and showed the barman, while doing that Aussie thing of apologising for being a pain. He didn't seem too worried. "I'll have to stop wearing that shade," he deadpanned, and poured me a replacement.

Nobody I've mention this to has been surprised. I'm told lipsticks are stickier than ever. And that although dishwashers miss stuff, it's cheaper for pubs to give away the occasional drink than replace them with humans.


Listening: "Songs We Sing" (2005) by Matt Costa