Huh, well... it's 6 hours later than I went to bed and I am awake again with breath that smells a lot like an onion and a fierce desire to be full of tea. Happily I have tea.
The thing is, I'm left with the nagging feeling that I eloped with an onion last night. I'm almost certain I remember meeting one at the bar when I left the gig I watched; he had a great tan and a pearl necklace around his middle. I thought the pearl necklace was kind of weird for an onion but he didn't seem to think so - it was a present from his Grandfather who used to be an oyster.
We got chatting and things seemed to be going pretty well. He was quite amusing - I've only ever seen onions make people cry before but this one really had us all in fits of laughter. He explained to me that onions only ever make people cry because of an ancient oniony curse that has existed for centuries on onions of the world - if you harm an onion in any way you will be reduced to tears instantly as you imagine all the onion babies they will never have now because of your actions. It's not very effective though obviously and I told my onion beau this.
I said it didn't work because they were too delicious, he took this as a compliment and we progressed our relationship from there. It was pretty much a perfect evening until we bumped into a red onion as we were heading outside for some fresh air (hanging out with an onion means things get fausty quite quickly). It turns out onions are incredibly racist towards each other and cannot bear to be in the same places. I thought this was quite interesting but I didn't have time to ask whether spring onions were just as bad because they had kicked off into a massive fight.
Thankfully my guy won and I didn't have to witness the horror of his peel being strewn across the street. We headed off to Gretna Green after that and now we are onion and wife forever more. The moral of the story? If you wake up and all you can taste is onion, try and remember what the hell happened so you can write about that instead.