Honestly, I'm not having a go at New York, but why does it seem that every restaurant table within ten-thousand furlongs, whether cheap diner or posh nosh, is covered with a sticky film like it has never been properly cleaned? Not even once?
Sent from my HTC GRIME™, a Windows® phone from the Island.
The Inn of Infinite Sadness, or alternatively, Smudge and Hobbes' Traumatising Transcendental Transatlantic Trip. Being the adventures of two very large, unwillingly peripatetic, half-Bengal cats and their owner (of rather similar description) as they prepare to leave the North American continent in search of a new life in their (the cats, not the owner) ancestral homeland of Aneda. Sigh, what I won't do for a decent cup of tea.
No comments:
Post a Comment