By Rhys Hughes
A BENEDICTION Two men go every evening to chip shops on the opposite sides of town and they frown each time they pass each other on the way back but give no other indication of acknowledgement and thus there is no brotherhood of those who love chips. A rather sad sight, chips that pass in the night, but on the iron balcony high above is a girl with oven gloves and she is discarding the ruins of a failed casserole onto the dark street below. Oh, proud men who convey chips along the thoroughfares of the sprawling metropolis, may peas be upon you! MY BABY JUST CARES (with apologies to Nina Simone) My baby don’t care for coffee. My baby don’t care for brandy. My baby just cares for tea. My baby don’t care for obtuse angles that complicate the corners of academic quadrangles. My baby just cares for tea. Unseasonal unflappability is not in her nature and even mild crocodiles who insist they don’t hate her together with those alligators who won’t actually ever see her later are something she can’t tolerate. My baby just cares for tea. My baby don’t care who highly rates her but if you own a tea plantation you are in a good position to placate her provided you don’t try to sedate her by committing the cardinal sin of adding a tot of whisky or three or even a lot more to her porcelain teapot because then she would probably regard you as a rotter. My baby just cares for tea. My baby don’t care for grandfather clocks that tick and tock all night even when muffled with socks and not even finely adjusted barometers or precision thermometers can hold her attention for longer than the briefest mention. My baby just cares for tea. My baby don’t care for stress or tension and guilt and confession are quite beyond her consideration and the tricks employed to gain mental leverage are far beneath her appreciation. My baby just cares for tea. My baby don’t care for therapy because anything connected with psychology has almost nothing to do with her favourite beverage. My baby just cares for tea. My baby is something of a mystery. Only one week old and yet already a connoisseur of tea. Servants hurry back and forth with cups and saucers whenever she demands refreshment brought to her private quarters and I can’t help but worry with all this toing and froing maybe there’s trouble brewing! My baby just cares for tea.
Rhys Hughes has lived in many countries. He graduated as an engineer but currently works as a tutor of mathematics. Since his first book was published in 1995 he has had fifty other books published and his work has been translated into ten languages.
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