SOMETHING ABOUT TEMPTATION

After having a quick cup of coffee upon returning home I headed out for the final pipe smoke of the evening. Further up the street, four leggy damsels wearing tight shorts were squealing and getting into a car. Which reminded me of the dye job on one of my favourite pipes. I've recently been re-finishing one of my Dunhill Bruyeres. Those were made of fine old briar from Calabria, with a brown stain undercoat and a deep red overcoat. Yielding what would have, as a lipstick hue, been appropriately named 'temptress scarlet'. The dense tight wood did well thus treated, but reds are usually not permanent, and can fade over time.

Temptress scarlet would also be a good name for a band.

Or a Japanese girl pop combo.


I had been working on it while my apartment mate listened to podcasts about the lives of scandalous women. She likes "researching" white women misbehaving. Heck, all she has to do really is eavesdrop on leggy damsels getting into a car up the street. I have no idea whether they actually knew the driver. If not, we may be reading about them later.

One has to be leary of strangers with candy or cars.

Coffee is okay. The problem being, of course, that coffee is only tempting to introverts in the evening, and they aren't likely to roam the streets wearing shorts and squealing, and even far less likely to respond to a middle aged Dutchman offering to supply them with a nice hot beverage. The weather is too good for that this time of year. Now, if they were soaking wet from a frigid winter rainstorm, it might work. Except they wouldn't be wearing shorts, of course. Nobody except nutballs wears shorts in that kind of weather.

I've never actually looked around for anyone who might need warming up in when the rain is pouring down. Perhaps I should. I lament the lost chances, and the likeable young persons who may have spent weeks in the hospital with pneumonia because neither I nor any other kind Samaritan came by at the right time and offered to pour coffee into them. There must be hundreds of traumatized librarians out there still questioning the choices they made during the horrid rainstorms in recent years. How sad.

If I ever get desperate for a date to the prom, I'll probably just start roaming around this part of the city with a thermos of hot coffee.



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