Thursday, December 24, 2009
Linford is a tortoise.
I was told that Linford is not allowed to hibernate, much to his chagrin.
Mrs x tells me that it is important that the little fellow stays awake for his first winter otherwise he might develop some problems. I would imagine that keeping a tortoise awake against his wishes is going to cause some pretty serious psychological problems let alone the foul temper.
Mrs x went on to explain that she gives it hot baths regularly as well as allowing the children to prod it, sing to it, dress it up and decorate it.
I took a look at Linford; he did not look happy.
just very, very sleepy.
But, on the bright side he is one of the very few tortoises to have seen a christmas tree or felt the splot of a snowball on his shell.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Being housebound with only the bag lady for company has led to the inevitable; we are at each others throats. Neither of us will dare drop our guard lest the other attacks with a broken bottle or carving knife.
I hear her late at night sharpening things. There is a book on poisons open on her bedside table. Open at the chapter on nicotine poisoning.
She is Googling 'hit men'.
I believe there is some kind of symbolism in her choice of flatware that she bring my lunch on.
I for my part am hoarding apple pips having read that they are (in large doses) deadly. How I am going to get her to consume 8 Kilos of the things is something i have yet to work out.
I must escape... I thought of going to France but the Eurostar trains have all broken down, B A is on strike, the airports are all closed due to asuggestion of snow and traffic is at a standstill on the roads.
I must find refuge!
Saturday, December 12, 2009
There was a cauliflower in the coldbox so I decided to make cauliflower cheese. I thought it a good one; made with a good bechemel sauce, bacon and 3 kinds of cheese. Then sprinkled with breadcrumbs and parmesan and baked in the oven.
Moll (who's tastebuds have deserted her) thought it bland and inedible.
To me it called up my schooldays and was redolent of headmasters (Eric Forrester) study as he brought out his cane for the first and only time in our relationship.
'I am going to have to give you six'. He said. 'It will I am sure give you no joy and hopefully an amount of pain. On the other hand I shall derive a great deal of pleasure from it'.
My crime? My crime was to have written CUNT in weedkiller on his lawn a few days earlier. Is it my fault that I am dyslexic and was only attempting to demonstrate my knowledge of early British kings.
I feel sorry for the kids these days who have to explain FCUK to their dyslexic teachers. But at least the teachers are not allowed corporal punisnhment and they must look after their pupils as they are probably their coke dealers as well.
Is it not ironic that it is now our educators who have the learning difficulties. They have problems understanding that there is no point in an education any longer.
Best to keep drones in the dark.
Ironically he has been forced back to working in the American pork products factory on the outskirts of his village.
'So'. said the overseer when he went back to work in the pig fat rendering vats. 'I see you are no longer waving Fluente but merely drowning'!
I feel that the worst is over and I shall soon be in full command of my faculties
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
while there I had a beer or two with an old friend Tiger. In fact we had too many beers and I told tiger there was no way he was driving.
'That's cool.' He said. 'I've got a driver.'
He climed into the passenger seat, started the car and while steering with his left hand pressed the accellerator pedal with a golf club.
The result was inevitable.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
But ours didn't break when the old man left
It broke much much later than that.
When the old man left things were hard
Mum worked in bars and pubs, did cleaning; anything she could find to keep us.
We lived in a one bedroom flat
Mum slept on the sofa in the living room
My sister and I slept in the same bed in the tiny bedroom
Head to toe.
I spent twelve years in that bed with my sister
Head to toe
I came to know her feet intimately
I knew every inch, every pore, every crease, every nail, every callous.
I learned to tell the seasons by the colour of her toes
I learned to tell her moods by the colour of her polish
I loved her feet
They were the first thing I saw in the morning
The last thing I saw at night.
We did everything in that bed together
Head to toe
Homework, super Nintendo, reading, hobbies, laughing, crying
I taught her to whistle
She taught me to knit.
I gave her hand knitted socks each Christmas
She whistled in admiration.
She taught me chiropody
I taught her reflexology
I gave her pedicures for her birthday
She cured my acne
I loved her feet.
Then one day, mum was out and that awful thing happened
The police called
There had been an accident, a girl , thought to be my sister had been knocked down by a truck
Would I go, in my mothers absence
To identify the body.
At the hospital the body was still in a bed covered by a sheet.
The doctor pulled back the sheet to reveal the dead girls head.
I exhaled with relief and said: No this is not my sister
My sisters head is at the other end of her body.
She never did come home though. Not after that.
But I found comfort in her shoes.