The sticks are enjoying a brief detour on their way to the dump or freecycle. C rescued them when someone was throwing them out, it will be a short pause in their journey.
Normally, I guess peasants sit on the rude earth floors of their hovels and weave baskets or boats or bread or babies with them.
Last night we went to meet C's GBF for supper in Soho.
The newish place we had read about do not take bookings for supper, so the tiny amount of floor space was heaving with people waiting for a table (and drinking, to increase their profits). The maitre d', when asked how long we had to wait responded: "Long time", and when asked just exactly how long, looked at her list and said: "Long time".
Needless to say, we went to an established restaurant where they have not only food, but service too!
The Soho entertainment continued when a large artic carrying a wide crane had come to a halt halfway up Dean Street. The various hi-viz men were standing around asking passers-by if they knew whose the parked cars were. I said: "Those three there are my mother-in-law's, go for it!" which at least raised a chuckle.
Half an hour later, they had raised the courage to go for it (or found a tape measure). What wooses, there was at least 4 inches clear each side!
So as we walked back through Soho past all the restaurants, bars, frozen yoghurt outlets, and design book shops, we came across a slice of the past, so I couldn't resist... taking a picture that is!
I have only the one stick joke and I used that yesterday so: Why do Marxists drink Earl Grey? Because property is theft.