The Chasing Iamb

For the first time in my life I have business cards. Two boxes of them. They are rotting at the bottom of my bag right now but will be used soon. It will be so much fun to fish them out at inappropriate times.

Two lovely girls and I once ran away from a truly terrible Beckett production. One girl works for a magazine and had an invite to a bourbon tasting event  at the Taj Mansingh so off we went from Culture to Lifestyle. We were clearly Poor Relatives so no one expressed much surprise at us eating the entire contents of the three bread baskets at our table. When we could not bear to listen to the ruddy-faced American drawl out his powerpoint presentation on the origins of bourbon, and had admired a piece of the caramelised cask and had participated in the bourbon quiz, we decided to run away. At the door we were asked to drop our cards in a box. The Magazine Girl had a perfectly acceptable card. I had no card but the third woman puzzled the Taj folks very much. They looked at the Greenpeace anti gene-engineering campaigner identity and sent us on our way with worried smiles.