A long convoluted dream involving small furry creatures, teapots, and pipes. The main character appeared to be a charming and brilliant girlish weasel with a taste for tobacco mixtures involving Turkish leaf and Latakia.
But the best part was that there was tea.
Nothing is quite so comforting as a nice cup of tea.
Whether or not the place where one is enjoying the spot of Oolong is, in fact, a suitable place to light up. Some places aren't.
One would think that enjoying a hot beverage would go hand in hand with a pipe-full of either an Oriental mixture, OR a fine pressed Virginia flake. Relaxation is better with briar.
But apparently not.
Not anymore.
I do not know any nice female weasels that smoke.
By any rational standard, my life is incomplete.
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LETTER BOX.
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