Rose and Apple

'A few drops of rosewater give apple juice an exotic edge. Add two fingers of vanilla vodka to make what shall henceforth be known as a Scheherazade.'

today's treat from The Flavour Thesaurus

I just bought this book

the flavour thesaurus by niki segnit

It was supposed to be a gift but I have already read it too much, I will need to keep this one and buy another.

It will be indispensable on those days when think that I've not got the makings of a meal in the house and then I spot the watermelon and that bar of chocolate at the back of a drawer :

the sicilian dish gelo di melone is a watermelon soup thickened with cornflour, sweetened with sugar, spiced with cinnamon and flavoured with either crushed pistachio, grated chocolate or candied peel, or a combination of all three.

who knew?

When another bottle of milk went missing - part 2

My mother redoubled her efforts.

across the road from their house there is a boundary hedge with a drainage ditch in front of it. The ditch is full of thistles and nettles and long grass and an ideal place to stage a stake out.  Embedding a camping chair in the ditch and dressing warmly, my mother set the alarm again, waited for the milk to be delivered and then went over the road and settled herself into the ditch at about 3am.

Nothing happened

Until 5am when the paper boy came along to deliver the newspapers.

Mum was concerned that when he passed where she was hidden, the boy might see her and be startled, so when he drew near she called out to reassure him

Hello... Hello there ... It's only me!

The boy looked around to see where the voice was coming from - but she was hidden from view and too deep in the ditch and too cold to get up and reveal herself


Dad called her in for breakfast at 6.30 and no more milk went missing and the matter faded away ...

... Until a few weeks later the postman came to the door and said you'll never guess what?... then showed her a video on his phone of a large retriever jogging up the road, carrying a square plastic milk bottle in his mouth.

(continued from previous post)

I've been visiting my parents

and discovered that a great mystery has been solved


My parents live in a quiet farmy village surrounded by other quiet farmy villages. My mother circulates the village on a daily basis armed with a rubber glove and a plastic carrier bag in which she collects any litter she finds; two full bags of discarded wrappers and drinks cans in a single day and once when she pulled something unspeakable out of a tree, these things used to mark the peak of local criminal activity.

until the milk started going missing ....


The village dairy farmer delivers his bottled milk door to door in the early hours of the morning before going home to get the cows hooked up for the next milking.

When milk bottles started disappearing from people's front doorsteps suspicion was cast wide but mainly settled on road labourers and travellers working in the area.

After listening to the gossip, and having lost a few bottles herself, my mother decided to get to the bottom of the thing,  she went to bed early in the evening, set an alarm for 3am (milk delivery time)  at which time she went and stood sentinel by the bedroom window where she had a view of the front doorstep but dad said that her standing like a statue in the dark room was a bit weird and he couldn't sleep - so when nothing had happened by 4 she went back to bed.

... to be continued

Got a letter from the FBI today

FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION FBI.WASHINGTON DC.
WASHINGTON D.C ROOM, 7367
J. EDGAR HOOVER FBI BUILDING
935 PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE,
NW WASHINGTON, DC 20535, 0001.

Attention:Beneficiary,

This is to acknowledge the receipt of an email from the Federal Ministry of finance Nigeria ... to notify you that I  and Mrs. Pamela Helen Brooks (The financial expert working with the World Bank) have perfected every arrangement for your approved fund valued 10.5 million usd. to be transferred into your nominated bank account without any further delay.

Gonna head into town and buy me some new celebration underpants

I also get letters from sexy girls who want to marry me - do you think it's because of all this money I have?

Giraffe Man visited the Brain Dctor yesterday

he came into the waiting room very slowly because his square-haired wife clutched him tightly and walked with great care - her dark glasses were very dark and I thought she must have gone blind but once she had sat down she took them off.

I asked her if she was enjoying our new hot summery weather

the hot weather makes it more difficult to walk because the straps keep slipping off my sandals

I could see that her feet were not-quite-strapped onto a pair of shiny-looking leather soles.

I said that I'd seen some rather good woven loafers in Debenhams but she looked sad and said that there were no shoe shops where she lived.




In the afternoon my favourite patient visited, dressed in Parisien Chic, she is very deaf and has Alzheimers. She tells me that she is about to move house, she knew she had to do it but she had got the date wrong and thought it was next month but in fact it's this month and now she must get rid of so many things

I had to give away my fairground horse

More words

from the Futility Closet today

my favourite is

quakebuttock 
n. a coward

A posse of black girls

in black and white school uniforms were at the end of the road when I set out for the Brain Doctor's.

Half of them broke off - racing to a lamp post and back. By the time I reached them they were back together, the sprinters breathless and laughing, a lot of chat with heavy swearing.

The tallest one was talking over everyone, über-swearily while bouncing on the spot, about a soon-to-happen race.

Her friend who hadn't been running interrupted her

Charlene 

you are so fucking ...

 (long pause trying to place the right word)

sportated 

today

the hedge was wild and woolly

the baby birds are fledged

I clipped away at the vegetation to remake my invisible nudie spot at the back of the garden, uncovering this nest

designer's notes: sheep fleece woven among twigs accessorised with blue plastic string. Under layer made from the ginger fur that remains after a tomcat fight

It smells animal-ish

Best thing

currently in the Jamaica Street Artists studio is Rose Vickers' quilt made of old rulers

I got an emergency text

from the lady who can't fold things.

can you help - my mother is coming to stay - can we make the flat look normal

i wasn't sure what that meant

do you want me to make it look nice


no my mother would never believe that

A man who looked like a giraffe

turned up at the Brain Surgery today accompanied by a short lady with square hair.


Giraffe Man had long white legs with markings and white mid-calf socks pulled up tight and tan sandals, he also wore pale beige shorts with the waistband way past his navel area. He moved in that way giraffes move - like a swimming rockinghorse.

He parked Square Hair Lady on the sofa then he swam in to the Brain Doctor's consulting room. She told me all about her knees showing me which one bent and which one didn't

I've had it operated on and it's a disaster but the woman at the clinic said I shouldn't ask to have it done again because I might lose the leg or even die

While I was away ants moved in under my plants

I've engaged in counter-terrorism but I suspect I might not win this one.

I thought my Lady Garden was all about growing things but actually it's nothing to do with gardening. I live at a comedy nexus, a street theatre leyline - the combination of junction, steep hill and lamp post outside my front door makes a natural stopping place - for passersby to collapse breathless or ramp up that argument that's been brewing the last half mile.

If I time my ant-bothering correctly I can watch the schoolchildren washing up and down the hill.

One group of boys comes down later than the others,  I hear them from the top of the hill practising their gangsta speak, one boy voice-raised trying to tell the others important things over their rapping lyrics and beatbox sounds. They come into view practising their moves ... head bobs, shapes with the fingers.

Arriving at my ant-ridden planters, they cluster together and work out the song that's brewing

mm chukka mm chukka mm chukka mm chukka mmmmmm

I'm chillin'    she's willin'    got the feelin'     it's reelin'    hey baby hey baby .... mm chukka mmm

I passed Drunk Trike on my way to the Brain Doctor's

She's looking a bit porky


 I think it's too much junk food



Happy to back with the Brain Doctor.

A very old and tiny patient comes in regularly, today she peeped over the edge of my desk and pushed towards me a card that she had cut down from a card someone had given her.

On the back of it was written the address of someone she thought I might be interested in.

The passage to Dubrovnik

began reasonably well, the plane stayed in the air all the way to Split. We deserved to be ripped off by a taxi because there was a neat bus that went all the way to the doorway of the hotel in Split and we were too stupid to notice.

Next day at the bus station we caught a bus to Dubrovnik and discovered just how unhelpful bus-related employees can be. Also I discovered travel sickness for the first time since I was eight years old.

Shared Space Croatian Style

When a motorbike doesn't want to go in the direction of the one way system it gets onto the very narrow pavement behind a female pedestrian and trails her all the way to the junction.

The holiday bungalow

in Dubrovnik is in the grounds of what should be an imposing mansion but the Grand Palazzo next door has menaced it into submission.

To get to there we have to heft open the gate-like-a-prison-gate then up steps-and-path steps-and-path  until we reach the door that marks the threshold of the path to the grove of trees surrounding the place where we will stay for four days.

There are windows around the walls and also big french doors all along one wall and windows are also in the ceiling. The bathroom and bedroom are divided off with walls that don't go right to the top so the light from all the windows can be everywhere. The bungalow is mainly painted in different shades of apple and lime green. Cobalt blue is added in the bathroom and the bedroom has a pink ceiling. The vegetation grows much higher than the roof adding filters and shadows to the sunlight that's trying to pour in.

Lottje is waiting for us, sitting at the white dining table set with a big bowl of strawberries which we must dip into grainy honey and eat while she tells us about buses and boats and also some sad stories.

this all happens before we take the boat to Starri Grad

the old centre of Starri Grad has streets of polished marble

In the olden days all visitors and horses must have been fitted with special shoe covers to get the streets this shiny. Closer to the central church the streets get narrower and coming out into the big square brings on vertigo.

I chose the room in one of the oldest towns in Europe through my telephone. I liked that it was next to the church and didn't pay any attention to the size. We had to step down a deep step into the tiny kitchen, we two and our luggage could only just squeeze in to the space and we had to take it in turns to breathe. The bedroom was bed-sized and up against a glazed door next to the pavement. There was a net curtain but, as we could hear every inhalation of passersby, we were pretty sure they'd notice the Man's snoring.

The boat from Dubrovnik arrived in Hvar town at eight fifteen in the evening, the guide book tells us that Hvar Town is where the Jetset stay and all the paparazzi come here. Starri Grad is the other side of the island. I was sure there would be a bus to take us there.

There was not a bus so we took a taxi. The taxi driver assumed that we had made a mistake, he kept asking if we were sure we wanted to go to Starri Grad, when he dropped us off he said.

next time you stay in Hvar town, Starri Grad is very quiet.

No cars can come into the polished area so we had to find our way in by ourselves. From the outside you see the church tower but once into the streets they are too narrow and house walls too high to see.

I saw Ljublinka's silhouette - her daughter had told her we were coming so she went outside and waited - like a lighthouse to guide us in.

I left Starri Grad yesterday

Today I've been shooing out the strange odours that have taken up residence and been having a party in my home while I've been gone, some of them I tracked down straight away, the long-forgotten piece of broccoli, vases of not-quite-dead flowers that I hadn't the heart to throw out before I left - others are still evading me

I did some drawings. They might appear here

Found a snorkel

in the dressing-up box under the wigs.

Also got

a gaily stripey/polka dot skirt
a straw hat
shorts with beads sewn on
some scarves
sandals

I'm off to Dubrovnik

Shevelling

image:running in circles' willow and maple saplings, patrick dougherty



di·shev·elled. adjective

1. hanging loosely or in disorder; unkempt: disheveled hair.

2. untidy; disarranged: a disheveled appearance.

 

 

Origin:
1375–1425; late Middle English discheveled  < Old French deschevele,  past participle of descheveler to dishevel the hair, equivalent to des- + -cheveler,  derivative of chevel  a hair < Latin capillus

The Man didn't bring quite enough sunshine back and has been complaining about the cold, he is also disturbed by the untidiness of the garden

I'm going out to shevel the garden and warm up

All week the rain bucketed down

the sound invading my dreams and becoming roaring crowds or traffic ... or just lots of water washing all my new plants away.

Today two things happened: the Man returned from India - a place he tells me has got too hot - and the sun came out here in Bristol

I said

fan-bloody-tastic you brought the sun with you

he accepted full responsibility

Yeah - well I hope I haven't brought it all

I live near a church

all of its altars, coffins, fonts etc. have been removed, it is a building pared down to stone walls, stained glass windows, a wooden floor and a high high ceiling.

Last night in the stripped church a Dutchman performed a show called Freeze.

On the centre of the wooden floor are eight knee-high mirrored glass cubes arranged in a circle. Around the cubes are stones, all kinds of shapes and sizes, some would fit in your palm, others are bigger than a big man's foot. The Dutchman stands upright in the circle. 

A body length away from the cubes are floor cushions for the audience.

A recorded voice delivers a measured narrative in a strong Dutch accent. While the voice talks the Dutchman inspects the stones, picks out one and places it with great deliberation on a cube. He finds another three or four and places them on other cubes. He then searches out a stone to pair with one of the first stones, he works at this pairing until he has made the two stones balance one on the other in a way that seemed impossible but now they have grown into each other.

The recorded voice stops, the Dutchman continues  around the cubes and the stones, placing stones together in pairs then threes, the concentration is immense and we are concentrating with him. When four stone totems are built, despite none of us moving a muscle - we are not even breathing - one of the totems  smashed down through the glass plinth. It was shocking and liberating.

Unconcerned he continued, occasionally gesturing to an audience member to pass a stone while he held a half-totem in balance. One woman stepped forward a little abruptly setting four totems smashing through their glass plinths.

It is a piece about being in the moment - it was mesmerising.

Nick Steur is touring this show



I went there with two girlfriends, we talked about the show a lot, then we talked about other things. One of the women has a husband who makes films she tells us that he now wants to write a book

He's worried about posterity, he says he wants to leave a mark

I don't want to leave a mark.

Today I coveted this dress

but it was on a high shelf and I suspected that I would have needed to be a bit smaller to fit into it


so I bought these shoes for my niece instead

Dressing and Undressing

at the weekend I attended a life drawing class held above a pub in a bad part of town, the models were tattooed and wiggy burlesque-esque performers, opening up their outfits a bit at a time and striking lewd poses. I liked the one with screechy lips, raven black hair and enormous pink-and-red knickers the best.



This morning I dressed for an appointment where I needed to look just the right kind of thrown-on cool-smart: grey linen jeans and a white white shirt fresh off the press.

It needed to look like nearly no makeup on so I did nude on my eyelids and swept a brown liquid liner across my eyelash line - so swiftly the brush leapt out of my hand and onto my shirt collar.

I changed into an indigo shirt.

It was an enormous relief - I'd have never kept that white white all the way to the date.

I can't go

on Facebook anymore - everybody is shouting at each other to not vote UKIP.

as though any of my friends would be friends with anyone who would

Anticipation

The Man should be starting to make his way back from India any minute now. I've had the odd call saying how hot it is, then I got an email from him a week ago, it was very short

Last night, our ranger, Morad had to do some other work, and we had Ibrahim instead, who hardly spoke but guided us to a scene with striped hyenas and jackals.

Striped hyenas must be one of the most beautiful and elegant animals in existence. Long stripy coat as if groomed on an hourly basis, strange ghost-like gait which enables it to float across the grass.

It is Alphonso mango season in India they are my favourite thing but mangoes have been banned from coming to England because the government is worried they will take all the jobs... that or the fruit flies.

My Lady Garden

This year I decided to transform the bland block of concrete in front of my house into a lush verdant garden of wondrous delight.

I started with my biggest pots filling them with compost and sowing seeds. When that was done I felt brave enough to make a long fat planter to sit on my low flat wall. Little plants started sprouting and I have the beginnings of spinach and peas, poppies, morning glory and garlic, there is also a carrot top from the compost bin that is enjoying being there so much it has put up a plume of feathery leaves.

Some people see my planter and think that I have provided a fancy litter bin. I pick out paper chip wrappers and discarded drinks cans  before I head off to the Brain Doctor's - today an ant trail showed me the remains of a burger bun buried in the soil, last week a passerby plonked plastic pots of stunted garden centre orni-mentals on my delicate babies.

I'm getting quite cross about this

I've had visitors

Written like that it sounds like an illness, like shingles or measles.

The prospect of visitors feels like I might be coming down with something because I focus on all the cleaning and house organisation that I don't do and I get impending anxiousness. It takes a while for me to remember that I choose friends who don't judge me on such things and relax into enjoying their company. They came all the way from America and brought me shoes and washed-out-looking linen of the sort I adore and our mouths were fully occupied the whole time with eating and talking - yes even in our sleep - it was exhausting.

Today they've gone and I really miss them

My local grocer is called Roy's

Walking down that way last night I watched a young man balancing on a wheeled rubbish bin pushing at a sofa with a broom, trying to squeeze it through an upstairs window. The shop carried on business as usual. The young man's relatives were shouting instructions at him from the shop doorway.

Against the laws of physics the sofa disappeared through the window and then some heads peered out of it and there was more shouting and another sofa was hoisted up - through the same window.

I have no idea how many sofas had gone in before I arrived.

We worry about soft-furnishings in Bristol

Drunk Trike fell off the wagon

the recumbent tandem ran off with a boney-arsed two-wheeler

a lone party celebrated good riddance to bad rubbish

Since Meeting Space Lady

my dread of being buried by things has increased. Over the winter a lot of jumpers were needed to feed my  jumper unknitting fetish - my cupboards are bulging. Today I collected up lots of sad-but-might-be-useful t-shirts, impractical dresses and over-optimistic-trousers when I'd filled a sack I took it to the charity shop.

I have come back with a wild flame-coloured mohair cardigan, it's too long and has a collar that needs un-ridiculousing. When I've fixed it, it will be magnificent.

Car Protection League

In an effort to reduce car congestion all the neighbourhoods in our city will become Residents Only Parking Zones - people can buy annual permits to park their cars near their home, visitors and shoppers will have to park on meters or in car parks.

This has been a gradual process, only a few parts of the city are Zoned at this point, some people not yet Zoned are up in arms - vocal spokespeople announce the armageddon: all trade will stop and elderly people will starve in their front rooms because someone is endlessly circling the neighbourhood unable to park near enough to deliver much-needed care or supplies.

I got caught up in a Zone Terror conversation yesterday. A soon-to-be-Zoned woman, told me about the imminent disaster

all trade will stop, people will starve, children abandoned ... 

I said

We've been Zoned; all the vehicles parked on corners, dumped camper vans, constant sharky cars cruising for spaces -they've gone. People walk around in groups chatting, I see cyclists using the road instead of the pavement...


The lady was not impressed

Well that sounds all very nice for people - but it's not nice for cars is it?

In Poland

when dubbing foreign import TV shows, they hire one actor to do all of the voices - be they men, women, children or mythical creatures.

It used to be for budgetary reasons, but now people are so used to it they don't really like it when it's changed.

Here's what that looks like


information lifted wholesale from the latest Popbitch gossipsheet

Three years ago

  
the artist known as Banksy wrote a slogan


THIS LOOKS A BIT LIKE AN ELEPHANT

on a disused water tank in Hollywood,
 
Conflicting reports circulated. The disinformation that I repeated was that a homeless man occupied the tank, Banksy's work resulted in his eviction and our heroic Banksy flew to the rescue by giving the man a home and also disowning the work so that it became devalued.

None of that turned out to be true.

An extraordinary character called Tachowa Covington, had lived in the tank for seven years but had moved out to a nearby cave before Banksy  'arted' it.


Tom Wainwright wrote a play about it

The Room In The Elephant 

An actor playing Tachowa Covington delivered an explosive monologue. Inconsistencies made it clear that this was not necessarily an account that could be relied on.

When the piece ended the story wasn't complete. We were then shown a film, a documentary made by amateur film-makers who'd met the homeless man when he was still living in the tank and had filmed him. We saw crazy, damaged Tachowa in the tank, he'd organised water, electricity, sanitation and had set up security cameras, he described how you go about making a living space in a cylinder

How you make a floor when it's curved ? you have to put ladders across that's what, make it flat. How you attached stuff to metal walls?  Magnets man you use magnets

The tank was was full of his art. The man flickered between shy child, king of the world and ranting madman, the actor had performed him brilliantly.

The film was made over a seven-year period, we see the film-makers going to his cave and showing Tachowa the news that a play is being written about him, Tachowa was then taken to Edinburgh where the show opened last year.

What people do in the city on a sunny day

I walked through a park, bursts of hand-clapping kept exploding behind me. I finally identified a Tourette-ey man bobbing around in a suit, face clenched in concentration, his clapping was interspersed with lamp-post-tapping and tree-kissing.

I made straight for the big fig tree, clipped off a few of it's new sappy leaves and stuffed them down the front of my vest so that the figgy scent could waft around me for the rest of the day.

Quote of The Day

from Poor Richard’s Almanack:

Sally laughs at everything you say. Why? Because she has fine teeth.


I'll win a fiver if I can slip this into a conversation at the Brain Doctor's tomorrow

The Path of Good Intentions

My regular route to the Brain Doctor passes a hospital, I usually take the path that hugs the hospital wall.


It was pointed out to me that there was a specially constructed path nearby which took the same route it goes through a lovely wooded area - why don't you use that one?

The Path is very short, just 300 metres long and has consulted the manual on public place-making, the one called  Alienating The Public Via Civic Construction

Warning signs in triplicate mark the entrance; lists of forbidden activities, a sign to tell you that if you die on the path it will be your own fault and one that shows how much you are being surveyed as you take this walk.

There are THREE emergency telephones on the Path!

The Path is fenced in and every ten paces there are shouty signs on both sides. Halfway through this über-telling-off there is a closely mown green patch with three little wooden constructions, slightly too high and too narrow to be sat on - this is  'bench as concept'. If you were thinking of stopping here for a poop there are extra cameras and signs forbidding pooping unless you clean up after yourself properly using the large poop bins provided.

What's not to like?

I Visited The Community Garden

and stuck in labels for all the plantings we did last Sunday. There is an emerald green glossy-leafed vegetable in the garden,  no-one seems at all interested in it. I picked as much as would fit in my handbag and have just cooked it with nutmeg and butter. It is divine - like super spinach.

I might not mention this to the other gardeners

Dressing is Impossible These Days

The weather never delivers what it seems to be promising in the morning and clever is the girl that puts together an outfit that will perform correctly for the whole day.

Today it started summerish and ended on an arctic note. The man called from India complaining about the constant heat and telling me how he wished he could be in a cold and damp place

When I'm home alone I defrost a UFO* and have myself a surprise supper - lucked out tonight it was chicken and flageolet bean casserole. Last time it was yeasty sourdough starter.


* UFO = Frozen Object that I didn't have the wit to label

Back in Bristol

The centre of town was buzzing today. Crowds thronged around a main street on a steep hill which had been lined with plastic and made foamy with bubble bath, people were sliding down it on lilos while big brassy bands trumpeted and children shrieked at their parents.

To the side of all this I saw a parade of people carrying cages of birds; budgerigars, finches and canaries into a beautiful old chapel. A poster advertised 'Concert for the Birds' and I  remembered the Youtube video where Snowball the cockatiel dances enthusiastically to a Queen anthem.

I followed the budgies into the chapel

It really was a beautiful chapel, the caged birds were placed up on window sills and spaced around on the backs of pews. We were all quiet then the pianist started playing Liszt Preaching to the Birds. I wondered if the birds would fall silent or sing along but they continued with their stunted flights, or stillness, or chirruping exactly as they had before the piano started.

The strangeness of keeping a bird in a cage became extremely vivid but I'm not sure if that was the point of the piece.

I'm Still in the House with Wooden Wallpaper

The people who live here have gone away, they've left a dog called Charley to take care of me. He's taking the role very seriously and is keeping me in sight at all times, making sure that I eat all my food and don't leave anything not even in the pot.

Last night Charley was concerned that I might run off with the telly or all the food. When I was nearly asleep he crept onto the bed so quietly I wouldn't notice and lay across my legs to prevent my getaway.

Today he took me out and tried to cheer me up by bringing me toys and sticks but I was in a mean mood and kept on throwing them all away.

Bread and Butter Letters

A class from the local primary school visited Mark's Bakery. He showed them how to make bread and the children sent thank you letters which he has put up on the wall. The teacher has provided translations

Woke Underneath a Thunderbird Duvet

in my friend's spare room. The wall ahead of me was papered with a remarkable trompe l'oeil wooden fence. I came down for breakfast and asked my friend where he'd found such treasure.


It was in this shop in Sussex, sold mainly furniture and carved things but upstairs ... do you remember that bloke who did all those Yes album covers in the seventies

Roger Dean

Yeah him ... he was up there selling prints of that shit art he does ... you know what he charges for a digital print of that stuff TWO GRAND that's how much and he's a right git too, he's got acolytes around him, all these hippy girlies... he looks like a retired footballer in a leather jerkin and he's even more of a know-all than me and that's saying something

News From India

The man went back to India two weeks ago. I don't hear from him often but today I got a news update . . .

Had to stay behind today - our driver got petrol in his ear and had to go to the doc. (No petrol at petrol station, so we had to go to mate's house and get petrol from old water bottles. Driver under car).

Filmed amazing dog argument in town this morning - two opposing packs lined up and barked at each other - all really fit healthy good looking dogs. Not strays, but truly feral dogs.

Small Mercies

The car needs it's annual health check so I took it to a garage in an on-the-edge part of town.

I left it to be examined and walked over to a sort-of-café to get a cup of sort-of tea while I waited for the car to be looked at. It was nearly School Time so there were lots of noisy children being escorted to school by parents and grandparents.

The sort-of-café has a strip of melamine against a wall which acts a bit like a counter top and there are slippy high stools which are hard to get a purchase on but I gripped with my feet and looked at all the stuff on the melamine which included two cellophane-wrapped gift packs with tags on - these were products from the 'Nappy Cake Company' - inside the cellophane were toweling baby things, wrapped in a way that resembled cakes. I wouldn't want one unless there was rich fruit cake inside.

When I leave the café the children who didn't go to school are riding the pavements on battery-powered mini-motorbikes.

The car has failed the test and will need replacement parts. I ask what the cost will be and I wait while the mechanic phones around asking for prices of things - every now and again he puts the phone down and says 'we won't get those then' and tries another supplier until he's assembled a list of parts that add up to the least money possible, but it's still a big list and it will still take all day to put them into my car so I will still have to give him five hundred pounds at the end of this week.

The good news is that he can fix my broken battery lid with superglue and there will be no charge for that.

Taking My Monsters to Work

I felt a sharp pinch on my shoulder blade when I got dressed this morning. I assumed it was something to do with eating toast in bed and gave the area a light brush with my hand before putting on a sensible jumper and setting off to my job at the Brain Doctor's.

There were little pinches on my back during the day but it would've been unladylike to fiddle inside my clothing so I ignored it.

I have just had a bath. When I got out and started to dry myself SOMETHING REALLY STUNG ME and in the mirror I could see a thing on my red red back - I swiped at it and screamed like a girl and on the floor dropped a very damaged ladybird.

Train Theatre

I missed my first choice of train to Stafford due to leaving home without a wallet but got on the next one and listened in to the phone conversation of a man in the seat across from me

get two nice fillets of hake

yeah skin on's fine

will we have to sign in or anything?

I'd like to see the kitchen first

anyway it'll be good to meet you love - bye!


Two women discussed the effect of the menopause

I can't make my mouth say the right thing anymore, I went to the butcher for smoked bacon and asked for half a pound of smacked bottom, he said 'Sorry love we'll not have any more of that til after Easter'



By the time we got to Birmingham it was goinghometime everywhere and people were choccabloc in the aisles.  Pam Ayres* was operating the snack trolley I know that because her voice came over the intercom

A static refreshment facility is operating at the extreme front of the train

I've got lollies and mars bars, sandwiches, cheeses, I've got coffees columbian, cakes, teas, chocolate and biscuits. I've got sevenup, orange juice, coke and angus jumbo burgers. I've got buns and butter, peanuts and maltesers and if you can make your way here I will be delighted to see you





* to hear Pam
 

Off for an Awfully Big Adventure

my new brown vanity case is all packed with:

spare knickers
custard tarts from the best baker in town
a pen
two books
toothbrush
hairbrush
lipstick

it was a bit full so I've had to eat one of the tarts

Visiting the Apple Vet

This week, my computer became possessed, the trackpad refused to move the pointer at all and when I plugged in a mouse the demon inside the computer flung the pointer around, dragging away screens I asked for, while screens I didn't want to see came up shuddered and laughed at me then disappeared.

You can only make an appointment to see a Genius* via their website and the computer-demon wasn't going to allow that so I trudged into town and waited in line to make an appointment, I went away and came back again four hours later and stood with all the other worried people stroking their broken Applepets.  The Genius* did stethascop-ey things, made sympathetic noises and said

we'll keep him in overnight for observation

I went home feeling anxious - were they going to phone and say

we can't mend this one, why not get a new, more reliable Applepet - one that makes toast

But they didn't, they phoned to say

your Applepet is better now

I've just collected him and he's got a whole new shiny keyboard - one that keeps licking my fingers and wanting to go for walks.




*Applespeak