It's the little things

Henry Bukowski once wrote a poem explaining that it was the little things that kill a man. The broken shoelace when you're already late for an interview for a job you haven't had for ten years, or the last match going out on your last smoke before you managed to get it properly alight.

I think he was right. It's the little things.

And one of the things I hate and, while hate is a strong word, I'm still going to use it; one of the things I HATE is the tag up in the back of your T-shirt.

I hate it when I feel it on me, I hate looking at it on other people and, perhaps most of all, I hate the fact that no one ever seems to do anything about it. Every time I see a tag sticking up on the back of a T-shirt, or dress, or shirt, or jumper, or ANYTHING; I just want to go up to the person, put the tag down and say, 'sorry mate, I just can't stand a tag up. '

I don't but it's a restraint that's getting harder to keep under control. I do it to Lady Hem of course, or people I know but it's the strangers that bug me the most. Can't you feel the tag is out? Isn't it scratching your neck?

Makes me get all goose pimply just thinking about it.