Kindling

I have a habit that drives Brigitte nuts (she has one that drives me nuts, but more on that later). I love to read in bed. I think I've done this since I was very small, but I can't remember. I certainly didn't in boarding school. The only thing to do there after lights out was to annoy the "dorm boy/master" or whatever the fuck he was called by deliberately pronouncing the word "Countstable" the way it was supposed to be said except changing it back to the way it reads when he asked me "What was that you said just now, Robinson?" I got a huge bunch of laughs out of that one, because I was "The Yank" and wasn't supposed to be able to speak the British Language the way the folks at Tottenham Gdns. Estates did. So I got away with a lot of things, even with the masters, whom I would ridicule mercilessly, at great risk (oh believe me, I always paid for it in the end).

Cunstable. Take that, Bothwick. Cunstable. That's what I said.

Anyway, It disturbs Brigitte because invariably I have to have a source of light. (Well, duh.) But these stupid Itty-Titty book light fuckers burn out on a regular basis an the only other source is my table halogen . . . which people in Japan at dawn see rise majestically every time I turn it on.

So yes!! Instead of lugging Gerald Durrell's massive 1,000-page-plus biography and the Titty light I will have a KINDLE. Three weeks of battery power!!!!!!!! (The lying fucks.)

 I have to go empty the dishes now but at some point I'll tell you what Brigitte does that annoys me. If I could only think of something . . .