Friday, 31 October 2014

Forty days: Pt 13 (Hallowe'en)


My spirit animal.

Also, check out the face of the pumpkin's creator, forced to attend a patisserie workshop this afternoon:

Bursting with joy. Like a cat forced to wear a Santa suit, his face says "you may smile now, but later I will kill you as you sleep".

Actually, I think it was less the workshop and more shock and disapproval at having to make those cakes which contained large chunks of pumpkin. I have just tried to eat a piece and .. no. Really not. Mmm, cake cake cake OH HOLY LORD NO A SOGGY LUMP OF PUMPKIN GET IT OUT OF MY MOUTH.

These guys know trouble when they see it:

The bad news: we found a dead mouse next to the fridge and I still have so much work I could cry and L has lost his €120 annual tram pass and I shouted and it's a public holiday tomorrow so none of the shops are open and there is no food in the house except 2kg of pumpkin cake. 

The good news: the children are at a Hallowe'en sleepover at the Science Museum ALL NIGHT PRAISE THE BABY NATHAN. When we dropped them off, the lady who was taking their names had her clipboard balanced on a flayed guinea-pig, on a table strewn with dried shark heads, pickled snakes, bones and a brain in a jar. I reckon they'll have a good time. I am going to bed with my book on Iceland and a cup of tea and will do my sodding work in the morning whilst contemplating the Liberty print Nikes my perfidious elder son told me were "too young" for me.  

My main observation on the first 13 days of this process is that making any plan to write/achieve anything remotely coherent and meaningful is laughable and that this might be my philosophical take-home for turning forty. "Take-home", ugh, I sound like I am facilitating your break-out group at a team building exercise in a conference centre in Surrey. Come, let us build an egg cradle from office supplies together then feed back on what we learnt*.

(*Did I ever tell you the story of how once during one of our - competitive, obv - team building exercises in the bad old law days, one of my colleagues actually HIRED A SPEEDBOAT to get ahead of the competition? That happened.)

(I now feel slightly nostalgic for the days of team building "retreats" to Mediterranean hotels that serve cava for breakfast. You don't get that when you're freelance.)


Z said...

You're forty? My daughter is forty and my Headteacher's mother is younger than I am. I feel like sodding Methuselah. I like the sound of the museum sleepover, though.

Dee said...

I love the Liberty sneakers, and I would totally wear them and I am older than you.
I think you should buy them for yourself for your upcoming birthday.

Anonymous said...

On the upside, you spell Hallowe'en properly, which is a dying art, and know speedboats are well naf...all upsides no?

(And if in doubt, tje Hallowe'en cake had both marzipan and meringue?)

Anonymous said...

Oh I bought Converse sneakers (properly called "skate shoes" I think) because they had stars on the sides. I work and play with pre-schoolers and can't see why they are the only one who get to wear the fun shoes.
So I now have shoes with "stars upon thars", and my teenaged son looked at them and me and said, "You can't wear those!" After some disputing, it turns out I'm not cool enough (young enough) to wear them! Phooey to you all - I love my starry shoes.
In further news, the latest Converse shoes are now so cool they don't have stars you can see at all. I'm not buying any more until they do. Ha!
Heather (in NZ)

Anonymous said...

MWDevon said...

His ghosts are the best by far and that pumpkin spirit animal is perfect!

Anonymous said...

Sympathies for the mice (there's rarely one). I shot my mini-mouse family with the help of an air rifle and peanut buttered biscuits; though doubt that would be a great idea in a house with enfants and a ouipette

Patience_Crabstick said...

Oh goodie, I have added the Iceland book to my list.

Sasha said...

Ha! Sulky pumpkin's despondently floppy legs say it all. I am still laughing. Also at the notion of being forced to go to a patisserie workshop. How the devil did he get himself into that. Bless him!

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