desperance | Gazpacho!

lamentables is a genius. "Gazpacho?" she said; and so happened that I had roasted tomatoes, and a green pepper ripening to yellow, and smoked garlic, and sourdough bread, and really all I lacked was a cucumber. So a quick saunter down the road and back, a sneering glance at my disassembled cooker - burners? who needs burners? - and a whizz in the blender, and lo: I have a lovely white cup full of thick slurrupy gazpacho, scattered with salt crystals for the occasional healthful crunch. And now I am going to forswear working, and go sit in comfort and read the adventures of the goblin Jig for an hour before I drift Lit-and-Philwards for a meeting.

And if so be that I wind up in the pub afterwards, well. I'm an invalid; of course my judgement is impaired.