An iPhone photo dump, though this time with our Down South correspondent supplying all but one of them.
Appealing enough to push thoughts of fresh-squeezed pug from my mind.
As if anyone needed another reason to dread becoming stuck behind a bus.
How to interpret this? Is it truly an opportunity to create your own bloody mary? Or is it “Fix your own bloody Mary bar,” perhaps in response “Hey, Nigel, I need you to come fix my Mary bar,” with the British bloody being attached to some piece of furniture called a Mary bar? Or does it have nothing to do with cocktails and “bloody mary” is being used as a euphemism for something awful?
One tile missing — but maybe it’s better that way?
The follow-up to Joyce Carol Oates’s I Think I’m Allergic to Peas.