Why she smiled

from Making Love – A Conspiracy of the Heart – Chapter 4 In Which

She smiled because there wasn’t much else to do. She smiled because at least she knew where she was going in life. She was going down. She found some reassurance in the steadiness of her descent. Last night and the express elevator of her life had dropped down another few floors, it had found yet further unfathomable cellars to fall to. Bing Bong. Sub Basement 101, Lady’s Separates, Loneliness, Humiliations, Women’s Unwashables and other Feelings of Dirtiness. And the doors swish open and there is the cavernous despair department, with all the sad salesgirls, with mascara blotted tears, waiting to spray her with their latest perfumes.

‘This is ‘Grief’ by Tristesse. Can you smell the evocative pungence of rejection?’

‘Try ‘Neurosis’ by Chagrin the compulsive scent of anguish, each drop squeezed from an aching heart.’

‘This is our latest, the dolerous odour of ‘Lu’, an Eau de Toilette for the woman who knows just what her life is heading down. You will find it is at its most fragrant when you flush.’

Don’t bank on it…

Of course banks have always encouraged the use of the word “bank” as a by-word for security, rather than something an aeroplane does suddenly when it loses a wing and is shortly about to crash to earth in a ball of flames.  Nor did the meaning of the word as the thing that you slip on as you tumble into a river have much relevence – until this week.

Of course some people always knew banks were dangerously insecure places; the residents of the West Bank, the sleepers of the South Bank and the poor women who work at Hoares.

Then to top it all you think you’ve got your money safe, invested in a bit of art, when suddenly not even a Banksy can be safely called a Banksy.  According to his official spokesman last week, announcing the shocking news, there are, other people also performing the exclusive and highly skilled art form known as grafitti.  In the time it takes to read a press release he wiped half the value off the Sotheby’s trading floor.

I had the awkward experience of accepting a cheque from someone yesterday only to find that, though the cheque was fine, the bank had bounced.

Safe as houses, safe as the Bank of England, not likely – the bums gone to Iceland.