Wednesday, 9 July 2008

Revelations, signs and portents

Volume One of the Tedium Files falls off the desk onto my foot, breaking one of my high and shiny Chloé heels right off. What is this - Tedium 1, Fashion 0?

I discover from ParisGirl that Kiki, the giant Seychelles tortoise, is male! My world rocks on its axis. I loved Kiki and spent lots of quality time with her (him!) in Paris, where I was busy being extremely miserable. It used to take me all my strength and nearly 2 hours to get all the way across Paris with a pushchair, a two year old and a 6 month old baby on the métro with a change (Etoile to Bastille, then Bastille to Gare d'Austerlitz. It sounds so romantic doesn't it? But for me it just means stairs. So. many. stairs.), but it was worth it. Kiki lives in the Menagerie at the Jardin des Plantes, which is an amazing and ancient institution, a tiny zoo in the heart of Paris, opened in 1795. It always held a particular attraction for me since reading a strange and compelling article during my degree called "And they ate the zoo - gastronomic exoticism in the siege of Paris", all about how they had to eat all the animals during the Paris commune in 1870. Elephants, giraffes, everything. Yes, people write whole articles about this kind of thing. This one is seminal. Honestly! As well as Kiki, it features the shaggiest afro horse on the planet, two crocodiles so consistently immobile that most people assume they are stuffed, and some rather sweet monkeys. Think what you like about zoos, I'm fairly ambivalent myself, but it was a day out and it made a change from having my outfit sneered at by the nannies in the Parc Monceau while being chased off the grass by a man in uniform.

Kiki himself is 120. I always imagined her (him!) as a sympathetic older (like, 100 years older) woman, who had seen it all, done it all, and would share her (his!) wisdom with me. A surrogate grandmother figure, if you will. Little did I know she (he!) is in fact a deviant sexually compulsive male whose mind was in fact on shagging everything with a shell as I silently communed with her (him!). One hundred and twenty years old and his libido is still undiminished; I am sort of awestruck, but also appalled.

("Nice ass" thinks Kiki "I'm gonna get myself a bit of that fine shell. Yeah baby, come on over here I got something for ya")

Kiki. What kind of name is that for a male tortoise. Though when I share my shock with the CFO he tells me that Kiki is slang for a penis. Who knew? Not me, clearly.

The window of Hermès is filled with colourful turbans. But every time I venture out to take their picture it rains. The turbans are shy. I persist. The picture is rubbish. But then, so are the turbans.

We discover yoghurts in our corridor of tedium fridge that are over 2 years past their sell-by date.

A pair of abandoned pants appears outside our front door.

What can it all mean? Nothing? Yes, you're probably right.

I am on my holidays for the next two weeks, internet. After lenghty negotiation, the CFO has conceded that I am allowed 2 trips to an internet café per week. However, we are going to the Isle of Wight, a place so firmly anchored in the 1950s that computers have not actually been invented there, so this may be easier said than done. Do drop by occasionally though, as I have scheduled a few treats in my absence, like an neurotic supermummy with a freezer full of nutritious meals in tupperware tubs. If anyone wants to pop in to collect the post and feed the tortoises they are most welcome.


zoe said...

I so want a tortoise, but it is a fact that the Twat can't look after them as the huge one that he had in Tanzania managed to run away from him - and he never even noticed.

I still want one though.

Enjoy your holidays and we can catch up when you get back. I've not killed anyone for a while now and I'm getting bored.

Léonie said...

Have fun on your holidays! I am fighting back tears about your shoe, it was so nice and shiny.

I am wearing an imaginary turban -does this count?

Parisgirl said...

Jaywalker, I am so sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but the shaggiest afro horse on the planet died last winter. His stable mate the Poitou Mule (makes a lot of noise) is still there.
Gawd, no wonder you were depressed in Paris if you were using the metro with pushchair and you say the steps are a killer especially as nobody, but nobody, gets out of the way.

Marianne said...

Have a great time! Hope the weather stays nice and you manage to get to an internet somehow. I've been inspired to go and visit Kiki and his ladies this weekend! x M

anxious said...

Stop it with your tortoise tales - I shall die of jealousy!

In other news - I shall wave at you from the other side of the Solent whilst you are on the Isle of Widget (as we South-Coasters call it). I am, after all, a mere ferry-ride away!

Have fun!

Jaywalker said...

Paris girl - Noooooo not the afro horse! No, this is bad.

Anx - Do you think you could come and rescue me?

Jaywalker said...

Leonie - Your imaginary turban is lovely. The colour really complements your eyes

Zoe - how could he? Ha,I can talk what with the tortoise genital operation type scenario thing..

Marianne - do tell us how it went and if Kiki was up to his tricks..

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