At the end of a long dusty bar, you hope you have the right address.
You know you do when you see me, chatting away to a few strangers, I’m wearing jeans with a flowery pattern, and a Hawaiian shirt.
You walk towards me carrying a basket, on your arm. And tap me on the shoulder “Hey, I thought we were going on a picnic?”.
I turn looking at you and the basket. “I thought you weren’t going to show” I reply “what is in the basket, by the way?”