Elephant’s Breath

They're out of Elephant's Breath in Islington.  This will fail to surprise anyone conversant with all the Islington cliches about champagne socialism and gifted children. Still, it kind of takes the wind out of my sails.  Having chosen that particular shade of not-white over all the other not-whites, I felt quite proud that it looked so good on the walls.  But obviously everyone in North London already knew this.  Ah well.  We might have to settle for Skimming Stone or Stony Ground.  (Is it just me, or does Stony Ground bring to mind Onan?) Unfortunately my blog has developed a mind of its own, and seems to have posted this rather dull draft instead of the riveting "HOW TO GET PUBLISHED" post. Does anyone else have ghosts in their machine? Maybe my Mac got wind of the fact that I'm going down to Regent Street to replace it tomorrow. Are you cross with me, dear Mac?  I know you've been good and loyal and never crash (or at least hardly ever) but I'm sick of my daughter borrowing you, and so have decided to give you to her and get a new one. I can see why you might be offended by this thought, as she's hard on gadgets.  But please tell me what you did with my blog. When you get a chance.  Mac, dear.