Day 188: Not For Crows

An easier run this morning.  I think the weather is on my side.  High winds help me up the slow climb to the farm, and blow the cobwebs out of my head. 

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.

A very large crow keeps me company, flying ahead and then sitting on the fence between the lane and the fields, waiting for me to catch up before flying ahead again.  Eventually it gets bored, and flaps off in the direction of the copse.  But not before catching my eye pointedly.  As if to say 'I won't be your dog.  You're too sluggardly for crows.'      

       

Day 187: Burns Department

Very pleased to see Cardinal Burns have bagged a series on Channel 4.  I have been a fan of their work for many years, but am especially fond of Burns.  Mainly because of this:-

Improtwat will blow your mind.

Unlike other improv groups (like Improdicks) they take the art of improvisation very seriously.

Larwood (level 4)

Demri-Burns (level 4)

Their two strongest performers – Marek Larwood and Dustin Demri-Burns – boast a Level 4 status. For tourists and people who don't attend regular improv nights this means they even improvise at weekends. Their weakest performer – Sophie Black – is only a Level 2 but is a girl which is why they keep her on. They are joined by New Zealander Jarred Christmas (level status tbc) who will see if he can keep up with his culturally superior counterparts.


I saw this show about four years ago.  It still lives within me. 

 

Day 186: The Beast of Bodmin

After a long weekend of eating and drinking without moderation, my run this morning is not impressive.  I heave myself round the park like an ancient and resentful labrador.  It is extraordinary the impact that just three days has had.  I believe I have a food hangover.  And that's not a euphemism for my belly (although I may start calling it exactly that).  I feel sluggish and listless and out-of-focus. 

I'm not suggesting for a minute that this is completely alien to my usual state.  I am frequently sluggish, listless and out-of-focus, but this has a different quality.  It feels chemical, like a come-down. 

Fortunately, I know how this plays out.  It will be considerably better by tomorrow morning, and by Thursday morning I should be back to normal.  In other words, just standard sluggish/listless/out-of-focus.  Not Taste The Difference.

I have just spotted a massive black cat in the garden.  Almost large enough to spark geographically inaccurate Beast of Bodmin rumours.  Thank goodness for the internet.  A search turns up many pictures of the B.O.B.  This is one of them.  From this picture I can make a positive identification.  The Beast of Bodmin is definitely in my back garden.   

What is the difference between a domestic black cat, and the Beast of Bodmin?  Not sure.  Probably a long weekend of eating and drinking without moderation. 

Day 185: X-Ray Specs

Covent Garden in the rain.  Undeterred, I am buying sunglasses.  They are Ray-Bans, and therefore stupidly expensive.  I pick them because they have magical properties.  There is a television screen in the store.  Look at it with the naked eye - nothing.  Blue fuzz.  Put on the special polarised glasses - a beach scene appears.  Take the glasses off - the beach disappears.  The sales assistant says something about filters, but I'm not really listening.  As far as I'm concerned, these are X-Ray Specs.  For real. 

Wearing these I will be able to see what lies beneath.  The TRUTH. 

Plus, of course, nudity.     

Spot dancing minceur Louis Spence on Langley Street.  Not wearing my X-Ray Specs, so I don't see him nude. Sometimes you don't need to see what lies beneath.

That being said, his clothes are so tight, I already can.

Day 184: Mouth Filth

For some time now I have been aware of the existence of wasabi chocolate.  I have circled it suspiciously in the supermarket.  I like wasabi.  I like chocolate.  But I don't entirely trust the combination.

I thought I would like chilli chocolate.  But I don't.  I think it is less than the sum of its parts.  The chilli makes the chocolate taste dingy, and the chocolate makes the chilli cardboardy.  Weird. 

I knew I would love salt chocolate.  And I do.  The salt simply makes the chocolate taste more chocolatey.  Surprising and brilliant. 

So I tried the wasabi today.  Not underwhelming, like the chilli chocolate.  Just WRONG.  Lovely peppery horseradish turns to bitter earth against the sweetness, with a sickly, stagnant pond aftertaste.  Both chocolate and wasabi lose in this battle.  No winners. 

One of the rare times I have actually spat chocolate out. 

Think it's relational.  A matter of with or against.  Chocolate and salt.  As opposed to chocolate versus wasabi.   

Day 183: Good Time Door

An invitation to a neighbour's long-mooted house-warming party.  It's been eighteen months in gestation, and frankly I don't have high hopes.  Troop round clutching bottle of wine, and expecting a a couple of drinks, stilted conversation, a handful of Twiglets and a speedy exit. 

Fast forward six hours, and it's half one in the morning.  Don't notice the time pass, fuelled by scandalous topics, jaw-dropping candour, high grade nibbles, and plentiful wine.  Much laughter.  Warm fudge cake and vanilla ice-cream.  And a TWO MINUTE walk home. 

The best times are those that present themselves without a fanfare.  Unexpected treasure.  Don't think you can cheat the odds by pretending that a planned event will probably be indifferent, hoping to engineer some magic.  You can't force it.  It doesn't work like that.   

Sometimes things just align, like a combination lock.  And the good time door springs open effortlessly. 

Hooray.

Day 182: Fishfingers

A knock on the door yesterday evening.  Perfectly timed to coincide with me having salmon hands (fishcake craft).  I open the door - there's a man with red hair and a matching rosette.  He looks startled.  I realise I am holding my fingers stiffly splayed - it probably looks odder than it feels. 

Rosette Man:  'Hello.  Voting for local elections is taking place this evening, up at the Jubilee Hall'.

Edward Salmon-Hands:  'Right.  I know the Jubilee Hall.'

(Awkward pause).

Rosette Man:  'I am the Labour candidate...'

Edward Salmon-Hands:  'Yes.  I guessed that from the rosette'.

(Awkward pause).

Rosette Man:  'Um...  Thank you for your time.'

(Exit) 

Ironic that the Labour candidate fails to put any labour into his efforts at all.  As he walks away into the rain, I am in half a mind to call him back.   'TELL me why I should vote for you!  INSPIRE me!  Come on, man - don't lose heart!  This is your CHANCE!'  But the fishcakes are calling, so I don't. 

I wonder why he didn't try harder.  Perhaps my hands put him off.