In Verona, you can go visit the balcony on which Juliette stood whilst waiting to be charmed by Romeo. Our balcony does not see equal amount of romantic action. During the entirety of last summer, we could use it to bbq well into the night. Somehow, our asthmatic neighbour literally got wind of this and put an immediate stop to it.
Now it’s a desolate place, only devoid of tumble weed and a whistling cowboy. Yes, our balcony has seen better days. Flowers and herbs have died during our leave of absence. The one rubber tree I successfully managed not to kill has now brought an end to my spell of success, whithering away on said balcony.
Today, the hubs and aI have had enough of our orphaned space. We went shopping crazy online, buying pallets of tinned tomatoes that will now joyfully mingle with canned sweet corn and boxed juice. Oh, what jovial fun we will witness once again on this balcony. And, if we are not here when said delivery arrives worth a good 200 Pounds in weight, said balcony could serve as a good platform from which to throw ourselves off of, since we then would have to go and drag those tons of preserved foods to ours, thereby entirely defeating the object of bulk buying it in the first place.
Yes, as of Thursday we can survive any zombie apocalypse no problem. Maybe it will get our balcony to collapse? If you read of a collapsing balcony crashing a rubber tree during it’s demise, you know the full story since you read it here first. One day, many moons ago I read a story by Graham Green of a pig that was kept on a balcony crushing a pedestrian whist the balcony collapsed to the ground.
I read it in disbelief, marvelling at the absolute ingenuity of fiction writers with their boundless creativity. Now, would you believe it, only a week later, I read in a news paper that a falling pig, including balcony, has crushed, would you have guessed it, a pedestrian in its wake. Was it in Genova? Or Verona? A, heck, Juliette does make for a nice pigs name, any ways.