Wednesday, 5 November 2014

Forty days: Pt 18 (Elder Salmon)

I became quite euphoric today at the cold, slightly misty weather. At last! My season. My favourite times of year are coming, high days, holidays and bleak, Scandinavian stay-in-bed days. The hatches are battened and the maple is starting to turn and the fire is lit and I am losing happy hours weighing up the merits of various puritanical advent calendars on line.

The park was looking dank, yet appealing, this morning:

I love staring at these allotments. I am an allotment voyeur.

Phwoargh, chard.

My good mood continued right up until I became unreasonably irritated at both the price of and the wait for a packet of Strepsils (€7,50! WHATTHEFUCK. HOW? What are they made of? KRAKEN TOOTH?).

(I also loved these pictures of Lucian Freud's house, which looks quite, quite beautiful. He lived very near my father and I used to see him quite often looking wintry and imperious in Clarke's café in the mornings. Obviously, I am also charmed by his great love of whippets).

We had dinner with my father who had been out smiting his enemies all day and regaled the children with stories of his misspent youth of goat ownership and his battles with William the mountain goat to be King Goat.

This was a sort of handbag hook under the table. It looks appalled.

Lovely as it is to see him, it is a good thing he is going home, because my diet in the last two days has been 33% gin, 33% wine and 33% meat. Luckily for my cholesterol and liver, he is leaving in the morning.

On the way back our tram tonight contained a wholesome, fresh-faced pair of Mormon missionaries who were having a full on debate with an impassioned man about polygamy ("I come from a really big family, yes, but we have only one mother"). One of them was wearing a name badge that read "Elder Salmon" which caused us enormous childish hilarity. We also met a busking trumpet player who was excellent - a rarity among Brussels buskers who are almost uniformly terrible accordion abusers -  and whose Somewhere Over the Rainbow allowed me to trot out my sister's best ever twisted lyric ("Somewhere over the rainbow/Wear your pie". Or possibly 'weigh your pie".). L revealed that until recently he though the "clap along" bit of Pharrell's 'Happy' was actually 'pepperoni'. I love a good twisted lyric.

Negative self-improvement thoughts of the day:

- I need to stop wearing my beloved Prozac trousers because comfy as they are, they make me look like a bag lady.
- I need to stop chewing my lips until they bleed.
- I need to stop taking three days to write 800 words.
- I need to stop treating a slight fiscal easing as an excuse to buy artisanal advent calendars and Pierre Marcolini eclairs and expensive books for children (AND THE REST).
- I need to stop writing these posts sitting on the sofa because my neck has completely seized up.

What do you need to stop? 


blackbird said...

Picking my nose, now that you mention.

Anonymous said...

My favorite twisted lyric was from a high school friend who thought Blue Oyster Cult was singing..."Don't fear the Reefer...." Hehehehe (I always get a great visual and a laugh when I think of that.)

Unknown said...

I need to stop reading these posts on the couch, because now I have the answer as to why my neck has seized up. (thank-you)

Can't think of a twisted lyric, frustrated now! I know I knew/laughed at heaps....

MargotLeadbetter said...

Working for a living.

Unknown said...

My best twisted lyric was the Christmas carol 'Go Tell it on the Mountain' to which I always sang 'Gold tellies on the mountain' with some confusion as to what they had to do with Christmas.

carolinefo said...

R has just given me the best ever advent calendar: The Bodleian Christmas Bookshelf Advent Calendar, available from the Bodleian online shop (the BOD has an ONLINE SHOP?? What is the world coming to?)

I should stop sitting here in my nightie looking at things on the internet long, long after the appointed time for settling down to some proper work.

carolinefo said...

ps exploring the Bod online shop, I find it has a section called 'Home Library Accessories.'


carolinefo said...

Oh dear, am now craving 'Latin Liturgical Psalters in the Bodleian Library', only £150 from the BodShop.

Right, am now going to Step Away From The Internet and do some work.


You are a very bad influence, Waffle.

Anonymous said...

My sister heard "Oats in a man, where you're gonna run to?", leaving us thinking of the plight of porridge once eaten.
The Seekers were a favourite on the record player back then
Heather (NZ)

Anonymous said...

I was convinced Sheryl Crow was singing Everyday is a writhing toad, everyday is a bird in a tie'
I once had a hilarious run-in with a mormon missionary (name now forgotten) I was trying to have a quiet sit down and cigarette and he wanted to talk about God, he made the mistake of saying 'Tell me what you really think of our church, you can't offend me.' Turned out I could and I did, he and his fellow elder positively flounced away and the woman next to me nearly wet herself laughing. I do like a challenge.

Lauren said...

Another stupid cute thing you have to see:

I'd also like to add that I do actually read your posts, but many years of lurking and reading has now left me with an irresistible urge to share cute animal stories when I see them. I'm completely blaming you for this. Maybe this is the thing I should stop...

Betty M said...

I'm dying to know who these enemies are that your dad is smiting - the scientifically illiterate? Climate change deniers? Goat botherers?

Nimble said...

Must stop reading at work as though they were paying me to do that.

Dave Barry overheard his daughter singing along to Madonna's Material Girl back in the day. He thought about whether he ought to talk to his kid about the feminist issues the song brings up. Then he listened more closely and heard she was singing, 'And I am a Cheerio Girl!"

Patience_Crabstick said...

I need to stop fantasizing about almond butter with apricot jam on whole wheat toast.