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Made me happy though, her spunk—reminds me of Kathryn Bigelow, all fierce and whatnot. Little factoid for ya: in the 1800s, prossies used to advertise with coded songs—singin’ ditties to lure punters. Ain’t that mad? Imagine ‘em croonin’ under gaslight—proper cloak-and-dagger stuff. Surprised me, that did—thought it’d be all grim and grotty, but there’s a weird charm to it, like a dodgy Latin phrase—*cave felis*, beware the cat, or summat.

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As I’m flipping through the papers, I notice some weird numbers. Like, how do you sell 500 loaves of bread in a day when you’re only open for 6 hours? I’m like, “Nonna, what’s up with this?” She just laughs and says, “Maybe I have a secret recipe!” I’m thinking, “Yeah, a secret recipe for disaster!”

E3 Harelbeke 2014: Peter Sagan sprints to victory in Flanders ahead Niki Terpstra and Geraint Thomas