a trip to a Certain Scandinavian producer of Semi-Disposable Furniture

Allow me to hold the door, sir

Coming out of the lift in the apartment block yesterday I held the doors for a grown man who was sitting astride his bicycle, as a small child might, as he pushed it clumsily down the hall, into the foyer and out of the two sets of double doors.
I wonder if he mounted the bike inside his apartment. I wonder if he said to his flatmate (for somehow I cannot easily envisage a wife/girlfriend): "Well, I'm off for a cycle!" as he jumped aboard.
Speaking of doors, an uncommon amount of requests for gently worn clothes are posted through ours, in our new house. People in this area (de real oul Dubs) must have a reputation for generosity. Or being insane compulsive shoppers, maybe.
The JB is visiting his Dad, (who is affectionately known to us as KDiddy). While he is there, for a week or so, he will be painting his father's bedroom. It is the Year of the Paint. JB has already painted our house, nearly all thereof, and my apartment. That's a nice JB, there.


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