It is not every day that one is faced with the sight of one’s uncle reaching for sustenance in the mouth of one’s close friend. There is an unstated rule in these matters. Uncles’ tongues should not be seen in public, let alone fraternising with other tongues.
When Lanky Ella revealed her conundrum at Hatchards booksellers, and confided that she was a participant in a kiss with tongue every half an hour, with a grope in close pursuit, the Vasa mind was taken aback. It was as if a close relative had announced that they were planning to wear sweat wear at the Royal Opera House premier of Don Giovanni. Eyebrows were raised. Sighs were released. A change of telephone number was envisaged. Yet, in the end, there was a shared sense of confidence that all would be well. That somehow, against all odds, we would pull through.
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