Tuesday, 13 November 2012

Leveraged basement horseshit

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?


Well LOOK:



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?


12 comments:

cruella said...

YES! I handled, very expertly, a real baby! He smiled, threw up a little and fell asleep. Tuesday joy indeed! His mother bought me a nice cup of coffee and a macaron of the Livia Soprano variety.

Mrs stupid head said...

Prog Rock is a national treasure. My dad's texts were of a similar vein until he took receipt of a new bog standard nokia. Unfortunately it has a colour screen which has confounded him somewhat so texts have dried up. It often took me days to decipher his text speak. In other news, I have managed to remove the covers from the Ektorp and put them in the washing machine. By the time I switch it on, take them out and attempt to dry and iron them, the sofa should be ready for Christmas. I have to be at work tomorrow at 6am and I'm necking tequila so it's all good.

HairyFarmer said...

I am in awe of the mushrooms. We were bought a similar-looking kit as a gift last Christmas (there is no prize for guessing my MIL as the perpetrator) and it sits, still, on the shelf in the dog room, un-spored. But I can now imagine that opening up the box to find white invaders would be quite... something.

I thoroughly approve of the paper-advents. I do, as it happens, stock several really quite jazzy ones that Do Not Contain chocolate if your Dad wants to branch out a bit next year? (I promise not to mention badgers to him!)

http://www.phoenix-trading.eu/web/ann/area/shop-online/category/advent-calendars/?bid=7fe32478980b8ff79f200de59bfa088e8bc6001f&search=false&sortorder=1&itemsperpage=12 The Children's Nativity advent is a favourite, especially the rabbit on the right pointing at the cow's pendulous udders. (It has ONLY THIS SECOND occurred to me, after 4 years of selling the item... Rabbit? Nativity? WTF?)

Margaret said...

We always had paper Advent calendars with Psalms or some crap as your "prize". We had a whole Super-Catholic Advent wreath lighting and readings and singing every night too. When I discovered, well into my adult atheist years, of the existence of chocolate and toy calendars, I realized my parents were essentially abusive, terrible people.

Does ProgRock mean dust in the nooks and crannies of your radiator or actually INSIDE THE TUBES? because I used to clean the former out like a mental patient. Long, thin brush plus vacuum tools. I take medication now.

I got a mushroom-growing kit for Christmas. WTH? Did they stop manufacturing Nice Sweaters?

The photo of your boys from yesterday was so so lovely.

Waffle said...

Mrs Stupidhead - Oh god, the fucking Ektorp covers. I bought three sets in a Marie-Antoinette-ish fashion, but of course all three are smeared with dog filth and crème caramel in a bag in the basement because I can't be arsed with all that drying business.

HF - I had no idea about your shop! It is amazing! I may have to order some stuff, like, NOW. Do you, er, deliver to Belgium?
(Prog Rock is not my science dad, he's my stepdad, so indifferent to badger issues, you're fine )

Margaret - Happy Christmas, here's a box of horseshit? Wrong. I must check with PR what Barnitts was trying to sell with this radiator guilt trip - maybe it was one of your long thin brushes?

frau antje said...

The box of horseshit is still reminding me of Krupp patriarch (weapons, not espresso machines), who was inspired by the smell of it. He lived on coffee and potatoes. So who knows, you could be fostering a dynasty, in addition to mushrooms, with your conscientious one down in the basement.

Won't lie to you, Tuesday was horrid. Every day I am not strung up like the De Witt brothers, is a gift (that unfortunately cannot be regifted).

Helen said...

Woo mushrooms! I hope Fingers takes good care of them.

Tuesday was not of joy, as I was on the Eurostar back from Brussels, but did very much enjoy reading your piece on le Chalet Robinson and am hoping the Dutchman and I can go when I'm next over. Counting the days...

An Idiot said...

As someone with *ahem* "professional" mushroom growing experience I can tell you that Fingers has done extremely well not to have grown a culture of something endearingly toxic. We once had a crop that required us to evacuate the building for several hours in the rain whilst the bravest of us doused the place in isopropanol with noses pinched.

Waffle said...

OH GOD, An Idiot. Now I have the fear. The mushrooms are already coated with a fine layer of fibreglass insulation from the builders, now I have to fear toxic catastrophe?

An Idiot said...

heh. don't worry - if you have actual mushrooms growing, you have already escaped this fate :) (It's greatbiglizard btw in blogger disguise)

Xtreme English said...

Tuesday joy? Probably, but it's now Thursday, and I've forgotten. It was something quite pleasant, though.

Thursday joy to you! After I walked past the Library of Congress and saw that the horses in the fountain (now shut off) have tails like mermaids-- Merhorses?--I had a good cup of hot chocolate by Eastern Market.

Xtreme English said...

P.S. What beautiful mushrooms!!