Wednesday, 5 March 2014

Seven things today

1. I confided in my friend B this morning that when I go outside to close my eyes and feel the warm sun and be in the moment, I find myself shouting at my crocuses. "What is WRONG with you? Every other crocus in the neighbourhood is out! You just aren't even trying. ARE YOU JUST FUCKING WITH ME?". It seems possible I am doing this mindfulness/being in the moment/enjoying the warm sun on my back business wrong. B was very reassuring. "Yes! I got angry at my dwarf narcissus and proclaimed myself a gardening failure". Flower rage is very 2014.

2. My sample pack of earplugs has arrived!

They were in a purple gauze bag with a ribbon tie, which is a whole lot more fancy than I expected for a job lot of earplugs. I have been examining them with great interest: there is a glitzy and overwhelming range of colours and styles (yes, this is what my life has come to this week and I am totally fine with it). Waxy ones: ew, Prog Rock used to wear these, I remember disgusting pink sticky slugs on his bedside table. Tie-dye effect ones: what the fuck. Yellow ones that look like a mouse has mistaken them for a piece of cheese and nibbled them: ??? I cannot decide which to try first. Which would you pick? As you know, I am as easily swayed as a reed in a breeze.

3. The phrases "the owl on the skateboard will be the farm overlord, of course" and "come, asteroid, I am ready for you, bring the dark veil of permafrost over our sins" (neither of them mine).

4. M laughed at my British class guilt about skiing yesterday. "It's ok. YOUR FATHER IS A KNIGHT OF THE REALM", which is, I suppose, true, but he is not the kind of Knight of the Realm who skis. Do knights ski, actually? Don't they just moulder around the Home Counties with their labradors? I'm not sure. He was once persuaded to go, but he declared he looked like "an epileptic dog" and abandoned it as a bad job, which just goes to further demonstrate his great intellect.

5. Things are going badly for the dog. It decided to run after a cat this afternoon, and has pulled a muscle. It is now hopping around on three legs pathetically, plumbing hitherto unimaginable depths of weepette misery. Then I had the rat on my knee on the sofa whilst watching the TV and gave it a bit of chocolate biscuit, and now he can't believe the massive extent of my betrayal. I cannot begin to imagine how it is going to cope when THE CHICKENS are introduced into the equation tomorrow. Also, he smells at the moment. He never used to be a smelly dog, so something is going on and I hope it's not just age, because he's only five and there's another good ten years in him. Maybe a bath? I sort of assume he's self-cleaning until he gets himself into something revolting, but I think this requires intervention.

6. Yes, tomorrow I have to go and fetch the sodding birthday chickens. I called the chicken place up to check they were open and I think sounded completely feeble-minded, because I have forgotten how to speak this week due to total monastic isolation, and the French has been the first thing to go. "Me? Hens? Can have?" The toothless jack the lad chicken salesman ( this is not poetic licence: we went to inspect his chickens on a far flung market some weeks ago) will totally see me coming.

M: Do you have the eggs? Is it eggs? Do they come in eggs?

E: No. They come pre-feathered. In cardboard boxes. Actually, I will probably come back with a one legged quail and a rabid peacock and be none the wiser.

M: HA.

E:  "Si si madame, c'est une belle poule pondeuse". (Yes madam, it's a lovely layer)

M: "Une poule à ventre bleu" (a blue bellied chicken).

I will report back, doubtless in some detail, on the whole sorry affair.

7. Things I have tidied today:

Blogroll (loads of you have stopped blogging. Recommend me some new blogs, please)
Phone icons
Fruit bowl
Lindt squares in the biscuit tin into towers of different varieties

Conclusion: I really need to get out more. Thank goodness for chickenquest!


bbonthebrink said...

For a moment I thought you had written to say you had tidied 'bogroll' and in a flash I was imagining the rationalisation of diversely located bog-rolls. Which would have been surprising. When bog-roll runs out, it tends to have run out. Sadly.
I await chicken gate with impatience!
ps- evidence suggests that I need to get out more as well.

Erika said...

Chickens are awesome. We had a couple die of old age and recently bought two Australorp pellets. They have finally decided that it is safe to come out when I bring the morning food, and it shouldn't be long before they start leaping up at me in an effort to make the food arrive more quickly. One of the Sussex has gone into spectacular moult, at least half her feathers have been dropped around the chookyard. Given that feeding the girls is one of the highlights of my day, it is entirely possible that I need to get out more as well.

Anna Maria said...

Pip McCormack no longer blogs on Cook the Books, but he now has his own eponymous website, hurray, and is back cooking the books.
Have you christened the chickens yet?

Waffle said...

AM - I'm not allowed since they are younger son's birthday present. He told me on phone last night he's calling one of them "Chili" though...

Anonymous said...

Chickens are great value - they are very entertaining and really friendly. But brace yourself for the diseases - ugh, you haven't lived until you've had red mite crawling over your hands! Also, random names are completely normal. Bob is my best layer.

scunder said...

100% Commented on the wrong post

Waffle said...

Eheheheheh Scunder. Condolences on Breaking Bad. Nothing will ever be the same.


Anonymous said...

Nits on thick haired boys, red mites on random named chickens. You're basically already trained up!

Claire said...

I use ear plugs nightly because my husband snores like a train. The Laser Lite ones I have found to be pleasingly coloured like rhubarb and custard and also effective at allowing me some sleep whilst my beloved thunders on next to me. I make him pay for them.

deborah said...

Ohh a one legged quail! We have one (wild, not masquerading as a chicken) and have called her Peggy. She hops around on the lawn at dusk with the rest of her kin.

Towers of Lindt in the biccy tin? There's posh..... a few mouldy crumbs and the wrapper remains inhabit ours.

Anna Maria said...

My friends have kept chickens for many years now and used to call them after curries, you know: (Chicken) Korma, Tikka etc. but they have long since run out;-) and now don't name them at all.

Sparkling Red said...

I have been lurking here. You could try reading my blog if you like. I'm pretty disciplined about posting once per week, whether I have anything interesting to say or not.

Patience_Crabstick said...

I would love a self-cleaning dog, or even one who remembers to wipe his feet before he comes inside.

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