Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Sunday, 2 July 2017
I slept on the sofa last night and, as usual, woke up too early, so spent the next four hours drifting in and out of sleep listening - or half listening - to all four episodes of Wilkie Collin's 'The Woman in White'. I think I know what happened.
I have quite vivid dreams during these times, and a recurring one is where I am in a large house with a very leaky roof during a furious rain storm, and water cascades through the plaster ceiling onto my bed. No prizes for interpreting this one - in fact, no prizes for anything, including my offer in the colourful tourist post. I lied.
I like the word, 'cascade' and I am amazed that it has never (to my knowledge) been used for a fizzy drink. Cascade says it all to a thirsty soda-pop drinker, being evocative on several different levels - 'ade' as in 'lemonade', 'cask' as in a barrel of liquid, and the image of more cool, foaming water than you could possibly drink, tumbling over a picturesque rocky outcrop in a fertile holiday destination. If anyone from Schweppes or Coca Cola is reading this, I hereby claim intellectual property rights to the name.
I just deleted about 500 words on the end of this post, because I think you have read them about 500 times already.