Palmistry demonstrated to me that the hand

Palmistry demonstrated to me that the hand is the spider of the soul. What I ask you is the sole of the foot? I tell you verily after years of podiatric study your foot *snifff*

has the delicate aroma of lemon sole indicating that Pisces is ascendant in your horoscope. Your venomous knee tells me your moon is in Scorpio. When I lick the nape of your neck

I sense this modest but big and plump white, sort of whispers of plum, graceful buttered scones and forceful cocoa. Well. Well? WELL?

"Yes, please." I answered timidly. I liked scones and cocoa, but not on these terms. Still, I said I'd eat them because I could tell that if I refused, I'd be killed…or worse.

So, the mafia trudged into my foyer, with their cocoa, scones, and machetes. Oh, joy. I sat them down, offered them tea, and listened to their threats in between apple crisps and

tossed salads. I let them say their piece & eat their fill. I passed out cigars. They didn't rush me. They had made their position known & it was up to me if it went easy or hard.

In 2017, the salads requested changes of dressing. Vinaigrette was no longer in vogue. I let them be naked and be topped with cucumber and carrots, shredded. The cigars were gone.

50 years later and it was all happening again. The cigars had come back and they were doing more than just terrorising the food and the people they were