People, upon first meeting me, ask: ‘Do you rent or buy?’ I find this impertinent. […] You could fake philosophical unconcern, implying that such banausic matters are best left to your estate agent and factor: ‘I quite forget: my people look after such things.’

Wait for the water to hot up before adding the salt.

Cronch, cronch, cronch go our footsteps as they break through the crusts of salt. The cronching echoes in the thick air, which swallows all other sound.

Horace lost his forty-shilling Akubra hat and did not stop for it and the Elizabeth Street cable tram sliced it in half before he had gone another block.