I like this: "The engine's quavering drone nearly drones out the sound of Gordon's knitting needles in the seat beside him. Almost, but not quite. Gordon's fingers blur and the needles click-clack as he works a complicated Fair Isle pattern and hums an old shanty." Such an image.
Actually, I was sadder about Rick Mercer. HOW could she get rid of him so cavalierly? *sniff*
His demise is probably what made all hell broke loose. With Rick gone, there's nobody to do the Rant, which of course just HAS to be what held the country together. *rends garments*
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"The engine's quavering drone nearly drones out the sound of Gordon's knitting needles in the seat beside him. Almost, but not quite. Gordon's fingers blur and the needles click-clack as he works a complicated Fair Isle pattern and hums an old shanty." Such an image.
Actually, I was sadder about Rick Mercer. HOW could she get rid of him so cavalierly? *sniff*
His demise is probably what made all hell broke loose. With Rick gone, there's nobody to do the Rant, which of course just HAS to be what held the country together. *rends garments*