Hello muddah hello faddah
Correspondence arrives at the waffle residence from the child currently on (NON-POSH MUNICIPAL) ski class. It reads:
"This isn't the best trip. It's kind of like prison (:-/). Today we skied but we didn't go anywhere. Not very fun right now everyone is punished. Anyway, how are the chickens?"
So that's... cheery. I asked his brother whether this chimed with his experience and he said that sounded about right. However, since his own correspondence to us over his two week ski trip absence was a single dog-eared postcard that read, in its totality: "salut je vais bien" (hi, I'm ok), I cannot assess the veracity of this statement at all.
HAPPY EASTER, LOVE BELGIUM
The Easter, erm, murdering chicken is here!
And so is his/her severed head!
Belgian Gothic Easter Bunnies:
I see from Twitter that it is national poetry day, so let's have MacNeice doing Bagpipe Music himself, which was often read/recited to us over dinner by my stepfather, a habit that would drive my mother demented, but which I now look back on very fondly. I can only hear this poem - especially "But if you break the bloody glass" in Prog Rock's voice now. MacNeice sounds so posh!
It is exactly one month until my book comes out. I am totes relaxed about it *vomits in a bush*. Soon I can leave you all alone again. Won't that be nice? So here's James Fenton reading In Paris With You. Sod off to sodding Notre Dame. Another posh reading voice, I note. Oh look you can even listen to Apollinaire reading Le Pont Mirabeau himself on the Internet! God, modern life is amazing.
50% No to this abomination, a candidate for being instructed to get in the sea if ever I saw one.
20% Relatively pleased with my work today, let the record show.
20% This Farming Life