New to the site? Delve into the archive Information about me List of collected quotations My poetry sites Other links: The ineffable Michelle Infinite Fish The Echelon Project The 80s (my era) Move to Mars See Ann Widdecombe dance Think I complain a lot? The Yarn |
Wednesday 29.8.01 Mum (airily, on her mobile to me): 'And I'm just sitting in the garage waiting for my radio fixed, but I think I might have been locked in. Hope they haven't forgotten about me. Oh no, there they are, it's alright, dear, there are two men coming towards me.' Me (panicking slightly): 'What do you mean there are two men coming towards you? Is everything alright?' Mum (talking to the men):'Is it done? Great. But you've locked me in! What do you mean you know?' Me (heart-attack pending): 'Just shut yourself in and lock the car door. I'll be there as soon as I can.' Mum (still utterly nonchalant): 'Oh, I see, it's just for security? Fine. Well, thanks, bye!' (to me):'What? Why would I want to lock myself in my car?' It's a wonder I'm sane at all. Thursday 30.8.01 Today is going to be one of those patently weird days. Meeting James and Sam whom I went to primary school with. Although James and I have kept in touch, I randomly ran into Sam at a tube station a couple of weeks ago. Rather worryingly, it took him about a minute to realise exactly who I was. So no doubt we're going to spend today going over all those funny and embarrassing anecdotes that get dreged up every time you meet someone whom you haven't seen for years. Actually, I'm really looking forward to it, and you never know, if Sam reminds me of anything patently silly I did in my younger years which I had forgotten about, it might just end up on here tomorrow. Watch this space. Random note added later: Who is Angela Monet? A search on the internet reveals obviously her most famous quote (the simply brilliant 'Those who danced were thought quite insane by those who could not hear the music.') But no info, no biography? If you know who the hell the woman is or was, please, please, mail me. Friday 31.8.01 I would like to tell you how my day is going. At 8.00 this morning, the sodding postman rang the bell, and, thinking there was no-one else at home, I got up and went to the door. Resisted the urge to verbally or physically smite him - after all, it is his job - dumped the post on the kitchen table, went back to bed. At 8.30, the smoke alarm went off. Poked my head over the covers in suspicion - this has never happened before, and although I suppose fires do occur, how fucked off would I have been if it had been this morning. After about a minute of debate with myself, I hauled myself out of bed to see what the hell was going on. My mother was in the kitchen, toasting bread under the grill (obviously much more sensible than the toaster.) 'Sorry, dear,' she chirps, 'did I wake you? Ooh, by the way, the charity Christmas cards I ordered have arrived!' At this point, I could take no more, and went and talked to the cat, who is, I have decided, the only sane member of this family. And I have a feeling my day is going to go downhill from here. Saturday 1.8.01 I notice that Michelle has compiled a list of songs and one book she would take with her in the event of fleeing either a nuclear holocaust or George W's second term in office. I have to say I was shocked and disappointed, Mich. I mean, I'd never condemn music I hadn't heard of (that would be the vast majority of the list then,) but please, anything but that sodding Missy Elliot song. In case you're wondering about mine, I can tell you that the book would be a three-way tug-of-war between Durrenmatt's brilliant play 'The Visit,' the heart-breakingly beautiful 'Diving Bell & the Butterfly' and Bill Bryson's hilarious 'Notes from a Small Island.' I think in the end I'd have to go for the Diving Bell, just because it's one of the truest and most brilliant books I've ever, ever read. If you haven't read it, please - take my copy and ingest. It's wonderful. Anyway, moving on, as for music, I can tell you that ther would definitely be some Elton John in there, and Billy Myers' classic Kiss the Rain would also have a feature on my list. More tomorrow, when I've actually given it some reasoned thought. Sunday 2.8.01 The cunning plan was that I would sit on my arse all day at work yesterday and compile my top 10 list, because apparently there was some sort of football game going on and so I was hoping that it would be ultra-quiet. For some reason, it was manically busy and I got about 10 minutes during the day to sit and contemplate. Watch this space... Monday 3.9.01 Terrifying slide into lifestyle a la Bridget Jones. The night before: Go to Adam's for BBQ, drink far too much wine, embarrass myself and everyone there, most of whom I've never met before, rant loads about how all men are bastards, eat loads of delicious but cholesterol-and-other-nasty-things-stuffed food, drink more, rant more, replace 'bastards' with 'fuckwits.' The morning after: Wake up with mad hair, stumble around Adam's room, remembering bits of last night, dress in stuff I was wearing yesterday (except Adam's jumper which makes me look pregnant), have shower, eat breakfast (1 banana, 3 soggy chips from last night - if that's not a balanced diet I don't know what is) walk Claire to the bus stop, get bus into Harrow with her, stumble back home (forgot wallet so no money for bus,) crash in looking like shit, write diary/weblog. This is not good. Tuesday 4.8.01 So the list goes something like this: Kiss the Rain - Billie Myers, I guess that's why they call it the Blues - Elton John, I can see clearly now - Johnny Nash, Cloud number 9 - Bryan Adams, High - Lighthouse Family, Thank you - Dido, Cello Concerto by Elgar (1st movt if only one allowed,) Intoit & Kyrie from Faure's requiem, the Polovstian Dances overture from 'Prince Igor' (Borodin) and 'Veni Creator Spiritus' by nobody in particular. A classic list, me thinks. Oh yeah, and my drunken rant of Sunday night was surprisingly accurate; all men are bastards. With one or two notable exceptions, of course... |
