Thursday, 20 February 2014
Communist spiders drank my spinal fluid
Hai. It's been ages. I'm not in the best of moods, quite honestly (I feel like this cushion, which M rightly says is my spirit animal), but let's soldier on.
- I have had to unfollow the Belgian pandas Hao Hao and Xing Hui on Twitter because of their ceaseless jolly banter. They haven't even arrived yet (they arrive this weekend) and I am already getting irritable with them. Simmer the fuck down, pandas. Honestly, I would never have imagined pandas to be quite so relentlessly upbeat: I mean, god knows, they don't look upbeat, do they? Mainly they look like they're in the muffling grip of a catatonic depression the like of which one could not hope to alleviate with mere bamboo. If I were running this Twitter feed (and frankly, I should be and this rant is jealousy), I would have voiced them as gloomy Russian romantic novel characters, filled with heavy existential angst and the ennui of a life of stultifying privilege. Admittedly, that might have been a minority taste in social media terms. LOLpandas are obviously where it's at.
- I have some kind of growth/spot/protuberance on my forearm which I assume must be a nest of dangerous spider babies. I checked with M who agreed.
E: I'm going to sell my story to Real People: 'Spiders Nested in my Arm!'
M: Communist spiders.
E: Yes, you're right. I can't really hope for the £100 cash prize for just spiders. 'Communist spiders drank my spinal fluid!'
- I am experiencing dog walking awkwardness. There is a woman I really don't want to walk with (she is very racist) and I keep trying to time my dog walks to avoid her. This is proving impossible. Regardless of whether I go early or late she is ALWAYS THERE (conclusion = she walks her dogs for a really fucking long time), and the dog walking area is too small to avoid her, so .. ugh. Awkwardness. My morning dog walk was my moment of peace (and/or bitter self-flagellation) and now it is a very British dance of social awkwardness, which is what I spend the other 95% of my time doing and really, I did not need more of that in my life.
- I can't bring myself to tell you about the Imminent F Birthday Chickens yet, but suffice to say that I only have about three weeks left before a whole new raft of feathery problems enter my life. However I can tell you that we have managed to make a brand new shiny chicken coop purchased on the internet look like a hideous makeshift favela dwelling, simply with our poor construction skills and some supposedly "clear" weatherproofing that turned out to be pitch black. Oh god, oh god, more animals.
POSITIVE LIKE A PANDA:
- I love this essay by James Wood "On Not Going Home", about the "light veil of alienation" of life as an expat. It has lots of things I have half thought, far more elegantly expressed than I could ever muster.
- I am also really loving this blog which is a very beautiful combination of sensuous, evocative food writing and sharply observed but forgiving mental health writing.
- I have nearly finished Mrs Hemingway and it is absolutely delightful, even though I do not have any particular interest in Hemingway at all. It is the story of his four wives, basically, across forty years and Hemingway himself seen through that prism. It is very beautifully written and cleverly constructed and draws you right in even if you think Hemingway is a bit of a tool (DEAR LORD what a tool).
- It is totally spring today. Can it possibly last? Let us say it will and soon we will be gamboling through the woods picking bluebells and not skulking through the woods avoiding other dog walkers. I took an enforced alternative route on my dog walk this morning and it concluded with me having to wrestle a drool coated barbecue rib from Oscar's mouth with my bare hands and I say ENOUGH.