|
To me I am Cosmopolitan man. I have a house in San Francisco, drive
a powerful luxury Bavarian automobile, have friends in four continents,
can bastardise several languages, take reasonable photos, DJ and
don't have a beer gut.
However, to these thin waifs who wait on me in the coffee shop
I am just some middle aged guy who keeps coming in, either on his
own, a book his only companion or with his Mum who always puts five
or six sachets of sugar in her hand bag.
I may as well be wearing an anorak and carrying a train time table.
Perhaps I really have turned into Boycie without knowing it - thanks
again John Craven!
|