looks as though he has stepped out from that painting.
He is raw and green as a newly hatched cabbage. Nothing makes any sense to him; not how to make a padlock work on a gate, or what things constitute food. His luggage was a toothbrush and a bike, he doesn't own a coat and he has had to go and buy himself some stouter shoes - I have a bet on how long the bike will last (less than one week) because he secures it with a rubber band and forgets to bring it in behind that gate he must learn to lock and unlock.
I don't know how much of this is about the difference between our countries and how much is about him being twenty years old but I daily resist the urge to put him into a brown paper bag with a banana to ripen a bit more.
Just done transformyng a bubblegum-pnk-cardy to short-sleeved shell-top
Then went to see Farey-Godmother-Aunt and salute her new orange garden, we ate salmon and strawberry lunch then she heaped my arms wth fabryc and knttng wool and also lots of aynchant cotton sheets, foxed wth orange spots like pages of old books - aye fynd them very beautyful.
A new young man has come to stay at our house for a couple of months, barely twenty he answered our advert for a mddle-aged woman to take the spare room. He's from Ayes-land (north of Denmark) and frozen n my draughty house - geothermal hotness bursts out of the ground where he's from, heatng houses so hot that they all go around n just t-shrts up there - he's currently bundled up n several of my jumpers and can barely move - but at least no hyperthermya on my watch.
and have lost the use of some keys ncludng the one that sounds lke 'eye' - bear wth me untl eye fnd a workaround.
Drected all my fury at not beng n another country to cleanyng the ktchen floor, spendyng whole week scrubbyng, mendyng and oylyng.
Now have lovely, shyny floor and have beeen gettng chums to polysh even brghter by removng shoes and skatng around on tea towels that are left out for the purpose. My grlfrends alternate between ballet glydes, norwegan skatyng and black bottom boogys but the Man shuffles pengwynshly on a syngle cloth askng when we can just walk on the floor lyke normal people, he says am remyndng hm of an uncle who always kept the protectve plastyc on the sofa.
right now, annoying the Man by singing Cliff Richard songs and arriving somewhere near Verona in time for supper.
But that didn't happen.
already arranged for Rabbit to cover my Brain Doctor days so here we are having a
'staycation' which in my case involves cleaning the kitchen, washing my jumpers and sulking. I am also knitting a garden chair with electrical wire.
The Man has channeled his disappointment into bee maintenance; having planted lots of 'flowers for bees' - his slug-defense strategy is getting progressively aggressive, he is photographing and logging all the insects that come into our garden, particularly the solitary bees and has identified around FIFTY different species of bee just in our tiny city centre patch.
This intense scrutiny also means that he has become an expert in bee First Aid,
frequently placing tired bees near a source of food and rescuing rain-sodden bees. On Sunday I saw him taking a tiny
glass of water out to clean a bee that was muddy and couldn't fly properly.
I saw this graffiti which reminded me that I was going to invent a rain hat - it would be like that girl's wearing the newspaper except that it would be rubber and styled like a wig
I'm mainly spending time on my own which suits me quite well.
someone suggested swimming at Hackney Lido at night when the moon was
full - I don't much like swimming but I do like moons and I
am told that I ought to get out more
I said yes ok
day before the event we discovered that the Lido was closing early on
full moon night which was last night because they wanted to go and eat
Easter eggs so we met for this swim at the end of a vague grey afternoon
which is not the same thing at all as a full moon swim
and I don't much like swimming
and then we were hungry so when food was suggested I said yes ok
Lido is attached to London Fields which is attached to Broadway Market
which is full of food shops and restaurants. I pointed at one that looked nice to me and we looked in the window to see that it was just the right
amount full and
the menu had a lot of things that I like including quite a lot of
things containing no meat but one of the girls pointed to a kebab place
over the road and said that looks good and everyone else agreed so we
One feature of kebab places is that they serve meat so we ordered the METRE OF MEAT speciality of the house - a METRE OF MEAT is a long plank piled high with meat
except the girl who wanted to come to this place - she just had humous because she is a vegetarian
Crouch End Cat has poorly kidneys and must eat bland medicinal food with a tiny amount of cooked chicken breast - he eats the chicken but leaves most of the medicinal food. He is pointing at the dish and looking at me and sticking his tongue out.
The lights went out while I was mid-brocoli - I guessed that this must be normal in austerity-ridden London.
We carried on talking and the waiter said that coffee would be impossible because there was a fire on
The streets around the cafe were jammed so I walked halfway to Crouch End then got on a bus. A well-dressed woman with a bouncy talkative child sat across from me - after 10 minutes of noisy bouncing the child slumped against her mother and said
you know my life's not in a good place at the moment
Back in Crouch End the cat is waiting for me
I haven't got the body language yet, he doesn't much like being picked up or sitting on my lap but I can tell he wants something - he keeps sitting under my chair and then he comes out and fixes me with a look.