A dream

I’ve just returned from a food foraging trip.

It may have been because I’ve mentioned it a few times recently, it may be as a result of the inevitable, yet deeply disappointing news that the lockdown needs to continue, but I’ve arrived home with an enormous bottle of sherry.

Is four pm on a Friday too early to have a sherry?

My current thinking is that it might even be a bit late.

During the night before last I dreamt that I had extraordinarily hairy legs. When I noticed my lack of leg depilation, I apologised to those friends keeping me company in my dreamscape. Their response was that the hair defined the outline of my legs beautifully.

Only in a dream.

I don’t imagine that was the sort of dream the song writers of the musical South Pacific had in mind when they penned Happy Talk. However on my walk to the zoo yesterday I noticed that I did indeed have very hairy legs, and, that the hairs did form a dark line of definition.

You’ve got to have a dream, if you gonna have a dream come true. 🎶

I have never before appreciated this poignant truth.

If you’re wondering about these sherries, they were all for me.