am staying indoors today as it is a bit blowy outside. I have brought my trampoline indoors as I don’t want it to take flight and interfere with the life-stock in the neighbouring fields.
I also have a cold coming on, which is obviously THE MOST terrifying thing ever. My rational side is telling me that it is just a bug and I will be over it by next Sunday. My irrational side is somewhat louder and is yelling: I AM GOING TO DIE AND WHO IS GOING TO FEED THE DOG???????? No, seriously, who is going to feed the dog???
Meanwhile, at the beginning of every new year I resolve to read more books, meaning I devour a book in January, and then fall asleep in front of the television for the following 11 months. This year I have started to read my book in February, it is Middle England by Jonathan Coe, and so far I am enjoying it very much. This line touched a nerve:-
…a perverse effort to recapture the past by realizing his past’s vision of the future…
Which may be what the book is really ALL about as it is about Brexit.
ck. My back is playing up now, and my knee, which seems to go hand in hand with ramped up tinnitus.
On the bright side I have discovered a word that instantly makes Sid return to my side. Yes, a bit of a surprise that any word would make him race back to me, but this seems to be the key, ANY word other than the designated word, such as ‘here’ or ‘Sid’, seems to work. Today I shouted the word ‘Pillock’ across the lawn and he came flying towards me. He is also reacts positively to Taj Mahal.
Yes, I did get hailed upon yesterday, but not badly.
And I did find Grayson Perry on my Sounds app. I shall listen to it in due course.
I’m not sure I would find anything to like about Donald Trump – although I am fascinated by the white circles around his eyes. He is so peculiar looking – all the things I could ask him, but I know, if I was granted one question, it would be about his orange face and the white circles around his eyes. I am that shallow.
To be fair, non binary is probably good for children/teenagers isn’t it? Have I got that right? It’d mean they were all treated the same and given the same opportunities, and they wouldn’t be pressured to go along with traditional gender roles – and then they could make their own minds up what they felt most comfortable with as they got older.
Anyhow, I shall now go and try new words on Sid; he’s bound to respond to the most obscure and embarrassing ones.
Do you think this email would make a good blog post?! Just think, I could create a new series based on my emails!! Or would this be cheating?
I seldom speak of the day when I woke up in Paris, and decided to live my life within a 24 hour timeframe. Friends and family considered the idea to be ill-conceived, and my chosen attire too flimsy for November, but they didn’t have my vision, or a swanky teal dress from Rhyll.
It was fun to be a child again, eating chocolate for breakfast, wearing white plimsols, and traversing the streets on my skateboard. Gone were my worries, gone was the weight of responsibility. I no longer had any baggage, or a wardrobe, or a toaster for that matter, and I was determined to cling to this feeling of freedom, at least until lunchtime.
At 1pm I was a teenager, and in the spirit of youthful rebellion I cut my fringe without a ruler; threw darts at an innocent gentleman in the hope of causing a romantic incursion; flirted with a riot policeman called Tom; and then finally, as the afternoon drew to a close, I pranced precariously on a balustrade with Dick. Strewn in my wake were broken hearts, chocolate favours, and a trail of twinkling wrappers spinning through the air like confetti from a shotgun wedding. I shall not mention Harry.
At the age of 69 I caught the night bus home. My hair was streaked with silver and my skin was crying out for a good moisturiser – possibly something from Estee Lauder, failing that, Nivea would do. At the age of 87 I collapsed into bed exhausted; I was also a little bit forgetful, and free from teeth. I sucked on my last chocolate and with the realisation that life is very short I resolved that from then on I would live each day as if it’s the only one. I mean, who needs a toaster/wardrobe/good shoes/a hairdresser/or a high fibre diet anyway?
Apologies. I began writing this post way, way back in May 2019 and since then the Youtube has become unavailable. Please click on the Vimeo link to view the film of my antics. I thank you.
Ihave been sent an island!!! I know!!! How lucky am I?? I am so overwhelmed by my benefactor’s generosity that I am using it as my new blog header, for the time being. All my favourite colours. And here are some more pics:-
And I agree with Mr Peenee when he says: I think sea glass is the world’s most beautiful trash.
Meanwhile, I must apologise for my absence from the blogosphere. I am finding it impossible to comment using my Apple laptop on Blogspot blogs. I do, however, have access to another laptop so I will be catching up with everyone very soon. Thank you for your patience. Here is an upbeat tune…
t is Christmas Eve, and I have decided that I will start a new Wonky Words Christmas tradition. From now on I will publish this old post every Christmas Eve to herald the festivities.
I really am spoiling you…
Here we see Darren. He is hoping to be selected as an ambassador for the Littlehampton Confectionery Display Team. He is submitting one of the finest examples of his work in their annual ‘Exposure’ competition. It is a grand affair. It is held in a disused caravan park close to Southend pier, and display enthusiasts come from far and wide to exhibit their elaborate confection. For example, competitor Annie has flown in from Amsterdam and has done something gratuitous with a fudge finger fan, whilst Gavin from Gateshead [the winner in 2006] has been imaginative with a Toffee Crisp and an artfully adapted 12 inch Twirl; Maggie, a mother of three [the winner in 1908, but never since] has chosen a minimalist/conceptual approach – her piece is entitled ‘Red Smartie with Toothpick’.
So far the judges have been less than impressed with the entrées, but Darren is confident that he can lick his rivals. Darren has a secret. Darren has balls, golden balls, and he knows how to arrange them. He waits in the wings as poor Simon, a professional kitchen fitter from Stevenage, sobs and stumbles from the judging panel after his Sherbert Fountain fails to font, and his Lion Bar goes limp.
Darren feels the tension rising – his moment has arrived, he takes a deep breath and walks into the spotlight. His golden balls are piled pyramid high upon a silver platter creating a sophisticated yet captivating display that brings the essence of Egypt to Essex. Darren stands proud. It has only taken a smidgeon of superglue to keep everything erect.
Alas, Darren is unaware of the envious Maggie who will do anything to win, and from the wings she gives Darren an almighty shove sending his nutty nibbles into orbit to splatter down upon the judges heads. Horrified, Judge Erica picks golden nuts from her hair, and exclaims, ‘With your display you are soiling us!’.
Darren hangs his head in shame, but he is not downhearted. There is always next year when he is planning an ambitious assemblage with Annie, they are hoping to cause an extravagance of good taste with a giant curly wurly and a custard cream flan.
First published on the Scarlet Blue Archive 8th January 2010 12:45 BST