Saturday, 31 July 2010

Bath and Beyond Report

This is a Bath and Beyond catch up because I am, briefly, back in Belgiana. I have twenty four hours to get my shit together and take possession of children and dog, before heading straight back to England on an even lengthier trip encompassing London, the Cotswolds and the Isle of Wight. Something has got to give. Maybe one of my eyeballs, or a temporal lobe? More likely my roaming bills. Proper posting should resume next week, because this could get monstrously irritating. What's that? It already is? I feared as much.


Fish nibbling my dead skin: about 30? 40?

Humans staring in open mockery at me having my dead skin eaten by fish: >10

Number of minutes before having foot skin nibbled by fish passes from totally outlandish to 'yeah, whatever, fish feet': 20

(There will doubtless be more about the fish pedicure over on Facegoop, but here I will just say there's something a little last days of the Roman Empire about it, sitting terribly blasé after the initial hilarity/horror, fidgeting with your emails as fish swarm around your feet, nibbling your dead skin. Is this what we have come to??? What will future generations think of this? I swear, it heralds the apocalypse, or at least risks hastening the time when we are governed by a race of gigantic, inscrutable, squawking seagulls).

Time lapse between having feet savaged by fish and recommencing savaging left foot again myself: 3 hours

"Wouldn't it be more fun", someone said last night, thoughtfully "if instead of lots of tiny fish, you put your feet in a tank with one GIGANTIC fish?" And, if you think about it, that would indeed be awesome, except instead of a gentle pedicure, there would be the ever present danger of losing an extremity. Even better for our jaded, desensitised, thrill-seeking culture. I am going to open The Conger Eel spa.

Audience members at Tall Tales who took issue with my portrayal of the EU public procurement rules: 1.

Gins consumed at Tall Tales: 3 (very reasonable, my body is, if not a temple, then at least a modest unitarian chapel)


Countries passed through: 3

Kilometres covered: 650

Fig rolls eaten: 20

Seagull related road near misses: 1

Human error related road near misses: 3

Human error related road near misses in which the human error in question may arguably have been mine: 1

Number of CDs available to listen to during 9 hour journey: 1

Number of times randomly selected Flemish radio stations played Rose Royce's Carwash between 7 and 9 this evening: 3

Profound philosophical thoughts whilst driving: 3 (not related to, or triggered by, Carwash)

Thoughts about snacks whilst driving: 100

Reflexive anxiety thoughts whilst driving: 8000000

Homicidal seagull thoughts whilst driving: 8

Puny triumph thoughts once driving finished: 1

Delight to be back in mould-scented, orange house: trace


irretrievablybroken said...

Ah, the thrill of coming home to a mo(u)ldy house of one's own: I know it well. One needs a microscope to locate it, sometimes.

A friend of mine wrote, in the acknowledgment section of his latest opus, that it was "the most peripatetic of all his books." I burst into open laughter when I came across that particular line while standing in the bookstore; however, yours is surely the most peripatetic of all websites, no? You deserve your own personal tank of foot-pampering fish.

ganching said...

So sorry I missed the session on EU procurement rules - I could have heckled from the floor.

Lisa said...

I am fascinated by the feet and fish picture. It has nothing to do with all the wine I've imbibed.

Xtreme English said...

Are the fish ACTUALLY eating your skin? I was right. Belgium is the capitol of fun. All England can do is find foot-nibbling fish and have you stick your foot in the tank.

frau antje said...

Thought for a second that giant, inscrutable seagulls might be preferable, as their colossal egos would be due to their size and not their ego, and they wouldn't stand around like idiots surveying the neighborhood like they owned everything to the horizon. Squawking sounds regrettable though.

Please tell us more about reflexive anxiety, I'm struggling with the language.

Betty M said...

Do the fish care how scrofulous your feet are? I expect some fish protection fellas would be after me if I stuck my right foot in a tank of fishes.

Alison Cross said...

oooh yeah, that is very Caligula, isn't it. Next, you'll be fed grapes by naked George Clooney lookielikees painted gold.

You must be exhausted with all that driving!

Ali x

Anonymous said...

About the substitute one gigantic fish for mini-fish pedicure....while channel surfing last night, hit upon "Jaws 2" just in time to see monster shark, lunge, mouth gaping, double row of spikes gleaming, at dinghy of school children.
As much as I love the sea, I still have qualms about swimming in the ocean, thanks in large part to Steven Spielberg! (And I grew up in Florida, right by the Atlantic.)

Trailing NOTHING in the water,
Pat (in Belgium)

London City Mum said...

Are those fish miniature piranas? Do they release them once they get too big? If so, where?
More importantly, how would they deem the fish to be 'too big'? Do they wait for a customer to retract their foot from the tank and find it, errm, lacking in an extremity? Or somewhat slimmer than when it entered the waters?



Anonymous said...

It may be too late... but don't go to the Isle of Wight.. or if you do, avoid Cowes in Cowes week - taken over by dreadful, Champagne swilling yachties in Cowes week...(I will draw a veil over the rest - let's just say my in-laws live there...)

Jaywalker said...

Ha, Anon. It's ok. It'll be our third trip but nowhere near Cowes, just good retro beach/crab/sandcastle/mr whippy action.

Ugh, boats. Nein danke.

Anonymous said...

In that case, I wish you good weather, and plenty of beach, and will continue to be thankful I am not there.. (saw The Wind in the Willows in York yesterday tho'!) Not quite sunny Brxl.. :)