Day 191: Car Envy

Today I see a toddler in a battery-powered Mini Cooper.  She appears to be driving - steering herself nonchalantly and at speed into the cafe at Kenwood.  But a second glance reveals that her father has a remote control console.  Daddy's new toy.  One step up from a model boat on a lake. 

In the corner there is a small boy who is awe-struck.  Eyes like saucers, unable to stop staring.  Tiny princess is lifted out and fussed over at a table.  Juice, wipes, toys.  The car stands empty and tantalising.  Small boy edges closer, hypnotised, as parents arrive and ineffectually try to head him off.  No chance.  He is locked onto his target.  Alpha-Dad is expansive and magnanimous and offers a go.  Small boy gets in.  Alpha-Dad wields the controls.  The car moves - transportations of joy.   

This is only going to end one way.  And it does.  After the joy comes terrible cries.  Hands prised off the steering wheel.    Consolation cake hurled across the room. 

Tiny princess looks on serenely, and passively allows herself to be buttoned into her coat and driven out into the sunshine.  The diamond studs in her ears sparkle as she leaves the building.


Inside we are left with the anguished keening of loss.

Day 190: Hedgerow Bustle

Blue sky for my morning run.  The fields throb green in the bright sunlight, and the hedgerows along the lane to Gorhambury are alive with birds and beasts, and lacy with cow parsley and may blossom.  The air is thickly scented - aniseedy, savoury, with a top note of sweet putresence. 

If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now,
It's just a spring clean from the May Queen
Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run
There's still time to change the road you're on

Day 189: Total Peace OMG

I notice that my new sunglasses (see Day 185) come with this guarantee (see left).

This has got to be the best £165 I've ever spent!   X-ray vision, glare reduction and TOTAL PEACE OF MIND.

Just as well.   It's been a day of petty irritations - but that's BEFORE I realise I have the guarantee.

Tiny geese

This changes everything.  Immediately.  The guarantee kicks in, providing TPOM via an excellent display of goslings down by the lake.

Big rhubarb

And then following up with the appearance of a gunnera growing alongside the reeds.

A favourite plant, because it looks like B-movie mutant rhubarb, and screws with your sense of perspective.   You get to experience life as a Borrower. Just for a moment.   

This is amazing.   Everyone should own a pair of Ray-Bans.  Seriously.

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.