You're Like Something Drawn With The Sun's

I'm Cursed With This Puritanical Streak That Makes Me Want Everything To Be About Something. It's A Terrible Affliction.

Everyone Watched, Wondering If This Could Be The Same Lunatic Who'd Nearly Berthed His Ornithopter In The Restaurant. I Swallowed, For It Seemed He Was Headed Straight For My Table. He Pulled Off His Helmet And A Mass Of Dark Auburn Hair Spilled Out. Off Came The Goggles, And I Was Looking At The Beaming Face Of Kate De Vries.

You Two Were In A Cave Together?’ Said Miss Simpkins In Horror. ‘yes,’ Said Kate, ‘and It Was Very, Very Dark.

Imbecile!" The Chef Shouted. "next Time Why Don't You Just Put Your Whole Hand In The Food, Hey? Yes, Your Whole Hand, Or Maybe Your Face! I Arrange The Food On Plates With Care, Are You Understanding What I Am Telling You? It Is Part Of The Art Form Of Cooking, Yes? A Lovely Plate Of Food Is A Thing Of Beauty! And Then You, Numbskull, Come Along And Put Your Fat Greasy Fingers All Over My Plate, And Shake The Plate, And Move My Food All Around The Plate Until It Looks Like Pigs' Vomit!" "chef Vlad!" I Cried Out In Delight.

But Chance Runs Like A River Through All Our Lives, And Being Prepared For Surprise Is The Best We Can Do.