Pass-agg sleeping positions. "Oh don't mind me. I'm perfectly fine just here. In your filth"
I'm having one of those days where you just want to punch yourself in the face repeatedly. I'm going for a walk to see if that helps.
(Nope, it didn't. Nor did: shouting at the Roomba or eating my feelings to the tune of most of a large bar of chocolate, two hot cross buns and a gratuitous bagel. My son's homework on the sacrament of "réconciliation" (trendy priest name for confession?) definitely didn't help. This Farming Life did, including the nail-biting birth of Jumbo the GIGANTIC Limousin calf.)
M and I have been discussing Trapped.
M: What percentage of their life do you think people in Iceland spend trudging through snow? If Trapped is anything to go by I'd say 75%.
E: That sounds about right. What's the other 25%? Being in boats. Joyless sex. Terse conversation.
M: Putting on and taking off parkas.
E: Losing corpses.
M: Freezing fish. I can't say it's really making me want to go.
E: Not exactly.
1. Endless night
3. Dismembered bodies
4. People trafficking
5. Very low lighting.
M: Not even any good looking snacks.
E: No! What do they eat? It's so dark you can't tell. Brown things?
M: Yes, brown things. Mostly potatoes?
(I actually really really want to go to Iceland and not just for the Icelandic horses and their special gait or for their gigantic bear men who never fasten their coats, but because it looks beautiful and enchanting and everyone I know who has gone comes back crazy for it and also because of Names for the Sea, which I believe I have personally been responsible for selling three copies of)
Percentage occupations of the general populace in Uccle:
50% Making crap posters about lost cats and sticking them to lampposts
35% "Creative" tax "planning"
5% Queueing at the Saint Aulaye
5% Gossiping about Street Matters with the Epicier and/or the Barber
Horses in tweed
Unplanned trips to the town hall tomorrow for mystery pieces of paper the need for which is flourished in the manner of a conjurer removing a rabbit from a hat some days after said piece of paper is due by children
Realising you sent other child away with no pyjamas
This easter egg