You remember how we bought a €20 cardboard box of horseshit in the heady euphoria provoked by an idyllic autumnal city farm open day? A box which was laughably entitled "Mushroom Kit" and featuring helpful instructions like "when the mushrooms turn black, it is time to throw the kit away" and "fly infestation may prove harmful"? Which we opened, raked around a bit, then abandoned to Fingers, the only household member conscientious enough to remember to water it occasionally?
Let me introduce you to the least cost effective mushrooms in the history of mycology. We are all unreasonably excited, particularly the majority of household members who do not even like mushrooms.
The mushrooms were the creative pinnacle of today. My brain juddered to a halt inventing copy for nightclubs I never go to at around 2pm and never recovered a shred of momentum. I am thirty eight in thirteen days (though several weeks ago my gynecologist callously decided to round me up to 38. Actually, she sneered at me for telling her I was 37, which seemed a bit unreasonable because I STILL AM, bitch, but I am currently on the wrong end of your speculum, so we'll let it go for now). If I thought I'd live this long when I was little (which I don't think I ever thought about, being far too busy trying to poison the neighbours and organising illegal primary school lotteries), I bet I didn't expect to be writing about nightclubs in an attic for pennies. On the brighter side, however:
- Prog Rock sent us some advent calendars. This is a yearly ritual. Proper, paper advent calendars, none of your chocolatey, Lego, premature gratification, world-going-to-hell-in-a-handcart numbers. Both he and I are a bit Oliver Cromwell on such topics. An advent calendar is made of PAPER and contains pictures of OUR LORD from the SPCK bookshop woven by Christian Aid from reeds, with nary a double-sized door for the 24th. Or if not Our Lord, then at least a traditional "boring goose" or "yet another fucking bell". How is anyone supposed to generate a decent head of anticipatory frenzy when you get a Lego chainsaw to play with on 7th December? Fie, fie.
- Prog Rock has generally been on excellent texting form recently. I give you a few examples:
"In York Library, cheek by jowl Solzhenitsyn Gulag Archipelago and Jeffrey Archer Prison Diary III"
"In Barnitts. 'Have you ever thought how much dust there is in YOUR radiators?'"
"Current Le Monde Diplo includes a 'figure notoire de la Françafrique' called 'Dédé la Sardine'"
"Nine hurt as burger van explodes!"
- I got paid by someone - probably enough to pay my accountant, certainly enough to buy (small) Cake For All tomorrow. Not enough to pay the people who send the purple bills that I don't really understand. Er, half whoop?
- My avocado was not brown and mushy, which is a little Tuesday miracle. Most days, I would settle for this.
Any shreds of Tuesday joy coming your way?