Sensible

I guess I kind of assumed there’d be a natural point in my life where Sensible would kick in.  Perhaps my thirtieth birthday.

My thirtieth birthday is now as far behind me as the imaginary line which Carenza sometimes tells me I’ve crossed.  And Sensible is still not fully in charge.

Last weekend, we took the family to Paris.   On Friday night we were returning from a bar.  The street was littered with rubbish and I spotted a green cardboard arrow, with something about “lampes” written on it.

Could it be?

From the debris, I pulled the perfect ironic gift for a man who recycles lightbulbs for a living.

I handed Nigel a sign entreating “Recycler ses lampes”

He was thrilled.

 “Ah,” said Pascoe, “The perfect student night out – having  a drink and returning home with a bit of street signage.  Only thing missing is a traffic cone.”

Next day, Pascoe and I got told off in the Louvre.  We had spotted a niche from which the statue had been removed.  Pascoe got into it and I photographed him, complete with label.  The custodian scolded us then turned around only to witness the large Japanese party who had been watching us scrambling into the same niche for selfies one by one.

However, last night, back in my motherland, I finally found Sensible when I was the designated driver for Perran and my old friend Jennie on a trip to the pub in Perranporth.  At the end of the evening, we had just returned to the car when they spotted a nice pint glass left on the wall.  Jennie felt Perran should have it for his student flat.

“It’s fair game if it’s not in the pub.”

As Jennie started to leap from the car, you can tell that I was under the control of Sensible, because I said,

“Be careful not to bang the car door against the wall.”

And I’m afraid that’s about as sensible as I got.  The glass went home to Bristol today.