Sunday’s gone Monday’s here again blues

I got ’em bad. Real bad. So bad I can’t even type me some clever copy today. All this cowgirl can muster is a sad-soundtracked photo montage to communicate the woe-is-me-ness of it all.

Memories! Like the corners of my town. Caffe-latte coloured memories. Of the way we were. <sniffle>
Yesterday, all my hunger seemed so far away. Now it looks as though it's here to stay. Oh, I believe in yesterday. <sob>
There goes my bacon. There goes my tart. They're gone forever. So far apart. But only the greedy know why I cry. Only the greedy. <whimper>
The swill is gone. The swill is gone away. The swill is gone baby. The swill is gone away. You know you done me wrong baby. And you'll be sorry someday. <wail>

I’ll get over it. I will. I always do. Udon noodles with smoked mackerel and greens at Koya on Frith Street have already helped to ease the pain tonight. The week will fly by and and there will be a Saturday and a Sunday again. And I will return by bicycle to Caravan on Exmouth Market… if only to kickstart that grunge band I am now obliged to set up with my long lost and recently found waiter brother from another mother. You know how some people start to look like their own dogs after a while? Yeah, well… if you eat out as much as I do (and don’t have a Toy Poodle Afghan Hound to mimic) this is what starts to happen…

Look close...
Johnny + Mary = Caravan breakfast twins!
Sunday’s gone Monday’s here again blues

7 thoughts on “Sunday’s gone Monday’s here again blues

  1. Elizabeth (I almost put just to make you giggle) says:

    In the second picture, is Johnny staring longingly at you from afar or just taking orders?

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