Wednesday, December 31, 2008
“Welcome to the creative fold, they said.”
Harold dropped his sports bag on the floor of the scullery and stomped through to the toilet.
“Didn’t it go well, love?” Ade put the kettle on. Everything was better for a cup of tea.
“Not really no,” said Harold through the toilet door. He paused to flush and wash his hands and opened the door still grasping the towel. “I wouldn’t have minded if they’d been honest in their lack of knowledge, but nobody even raised an eyebrow when I casually dropped the fact I was a black belt in Ikebana.”
Ada shook her head in sympathy. “They weren’t real martial artists, then?”
“No. They weren’t even impressed with my origami katana.”