My main takeaway (other than stir fried veg in black bean sauce, couple spring rolls, prawn toast and a misleading fortune) here is that: screw the middle man. We're marketing ashes as our USP. There ain't no souvenir quite like the charred remains of a loved one am I right? We used my nan's urn to prop up the Christmas tree last year. I have photos.

But anyway. Very profound. Slightly jarring - much like the several ageing jars of mint sauce at the back left of the top shelf on this Refrigerator Reality we reside in. Maybe I was wrong about this whole waiting room fiasco. Maybe we're all just cold on the inside, rigid on the outside, our contents plucked and pried and pulled out of us by the Rest of the Ravenous World. I don't think we're just magnets. I think we're entire fridges (I know I am. Pasty white, full of snacks, haven't left the kitchen in seven years). It's just that some of us don't have a light on inside.

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