Thursday, August 30, 2007
The Fenland Fair
Zia tried clay pigeon shooting - and unfortunately let the gun slip down his arm when he pulled the trigger. Ouch! That really hurt! Poor chap - might put him off guns, though - so look on the bright side. After half an hour of wandering around here and getting deafened by the continuous bang of the shotguns, the kids were getting fed up - I'd promised them a fair - not a heap of green clad, green wellied, flat capped, black labradored country types. We wandered past a row of chemical loos, round a few trees - and phew, what a relief! A tower slide, flying horses, bouncy castles, hook-a-duck, coconut shy, hot dogs. A quick way to spend a great deal of money - but happy children! Worth it...
And dogs everywhere - from lopey, rough coated deer hounds to prancing chihuahuas. Zia was entranced, sitting in front of temporarily stationary dogs, stroking their ears and kissing their faces. We were very pleased we'd left Finny at home - he'd have hated the heat and especially the loud gun bangs - for the offspring of working parents, he's a total wimp with noises.
We saw a parade of old tractors painted in primary colours, a traction engine, a gypsy caravan, convertible Morris Minors (I lust after them), and sat on straw bales around the main parade ring, watching the dog disobedience class.
I bought yet another cake (homemade, fruit, heavy) for my daughter's wedding this Saturday - rather have too many than too few. Now both are way out of reach of Finn's greedyguts ...
We ended up in the smelly ferret tent. It might have been the ferrets - but then it might have been the owners, draped all over in furry ferret collars, gloves and hats. Ferrets lay in heaps all over each other, piled high in their hammocks and cages, lying half in half out of a hammock, too sleepy to bother to fall out completely ... Ebs wanted to hold and stroke a ferret, which she did, a couple of times. She insisted Mummy would like to have ferrets. Unlikely, I think..
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Sunday, August 26, 2007
whew, what a weird week
All my life, the expectation has been to meet the man of my dreams. Well, I'm not so naive - certainly not now, or so I had supposed - as to believe there would be someone out there for me without feet of clay. Mine are pretty grubby, after all ..
So - one long marriage, one much shorter relationship and quite a few adult years on my own with temporary intermissions later, and what am I expecting? Sometimes, I think I'd like one special man exclusively for me - and then at other times, maybe a small selection to suit various aspects of my personality and doings. And neither choice includes a live-in option - that, and remarriage have been tested and found wanting..
Most people know I've tried out internet dating and other internet contacts - with the most mixed of results. I've ended up with a platonic friend - we go out from time to time - music, dinner, conversation - and good fun it is, too. I've got penpals from one end of the country to the other - male and female - which has been so interesting and such fun! I've met up with some of them, may meet others, may never meet some. And I've met some whose circumstances are a mite unconventional.
Just over a week ago, I was feeling a bit lonely, in that 'I want someone to love me' mood. A melancholic, autumnal mood, probably not helped by cold rainy gray skies - in August! But a chum is coming round - we're going out to dinner. We haven't met up for some little time, and I ask if he's missed me and tell him how I'd woken up this morning, thinking there was someone in my bed. And there wasn't.. The disappointment was piercing. Oh, what a mistake, telling him! He's too sympathetic - he can't be the man for me, but his sympathy undoes me, and I can't stop crying, as he strokes my back, looks into my eyes - I can't meet his - and says he wishes he could do something.
Two days later - and the rain is still falling relentlessly - and a long-term friend is coming round for the day. By this time, my mood has lifted somewhat, and to the sound of wind and rain, we snuggle under the bedclothes and make love until my brain swirls with oxytocin and serotonin. Later, and unexpectedly, he cooks supper for us - I lean near the cooker, and watch him make pancakes, grate cheese, layer ham. I open a bottle of Merlot and we eat voraciously - we'd forgotten about lunch.
I'm back from the old conventions, from looking to the future, back to living for the moment. Till the next time.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Please take a little time to look at this
Sunday, August 19, 2007
A friend sent this to me yesterday -
"The Master of the Caravan:
But who are ye in rags and rotten shoes
You dirty-bearded, blocking up the way?
We are the Pilgrims, master: we shall go
Always a little further: it may be
Beyond that last blue mountain barred with snow,
Across that angry or that glimmering sea"
From The Golden Journey to Samarkand, James Elroy Flecker,
who died of TB in 1915, aged 31.
It reminded me of CP Cavafy's Ithaka, which always makes
me laugh and cry at the same time.
We'd been discussing, in a meandering sort of way,
contrasts of youth and age, in life, death and in
literature, sparked off by Dylan Thomas'
'do not go gentle into that good night..'
Keats had the similar youthful exuberance and joy
in extravagant words. I looked up 'Ode to a Nightingale'
- too long to post here, but wondrous.
I continued, transferred, adjusted this conversation
with yet another friend, so deep into the night -
whether writing dates, or whether it stands through
time, to adherents.
No great conclusions, but I felt wistful,
a little point of present,
looking over my shoulder at eons
and forward into an abyss.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Mind you, I've had TWO lots of raw cake mix bowls to lick clean ... silver linings!
Monday, August 13, 2007
Having your cake ...
The dog agreed .....
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Brown haired blonde joke
Do you ever wonder why you're still wearing your sunglasses at this inappropriate time of day?
An Internet Date
So - I get to the entrance, slightly hot and bothered, because I took the newtome car, parked, and then couldn't find the entrance - I'm a bit late. Ah. £3 entrance fee. Now, I'm not mean - well, I am with myself - but not if it's my treat to someone else... A slight stirring of awareness - no wonder he invited me to meet him at the restaurant. Which is way way way over there btw, says the feekeeper. Hmm. I find the shop and ask where the restaurant is. Round the corner, I'm told. I'm pointed to an ominous 'Refreshments' sign... and bump my way through a selection of coach trip parties on the narrow pathway.... and see a long queue - QUEUE! - in front of a counter... and peer inside a canteen-style open building - nope - and then I'm waved at by my 'date', who continues his everlasting phone call while I find a seat, sit down, arrange my frock, cross, uncross, cross my legs, look around at the littleoldlady coach parties (ooops nearly there meself!), read War and Peace, read Encyclopedia Britannica (full sized version), gaze skyward, sigh, perk up - it gives me something to write about! So, when he finally gets off the phone, I can actually summon up a smile of greeting. Now, I'm not the tallest flower in the garden, but in heels I have this astounding first of actually towering over someone. At last! I can literally talk down to someone. I'm not heightist, but I am fed up.
We talk. No, he talks, but please don't ask me on what subjects - it just goes on and on. He has to leave fairly soon. Oh dear. He tells me about the menu. Sandwiches. Or a baguette. Oh, there is home-made soup. It is home-made, I'm assured. At which I assure him I do believe the mangy scrawl on the blackboard. By this time, we're queueing lengthily with the blue rinses (god let me go bald first) - and I'm now, crossly, searching the blackboard for the most expensive item.... ploughman's lunch £3.50 complete with pickled onion .... I'm entertained with a story about a neighbour who has started up a website for celibate couples..... I cannot stop laughing - certainly was entertaining, but perhaps not for the reason he ever imagines.
And then it's our turn. The baguettes look as if they died and were entombed with the Egyptian pharaohs. The sandwiches are cheese, tuna, bacon 'n' turkey. In those triangular seethrough plastic boxes. Like those in service stations and garages.... and called 'gourmet' .... In a faux-innocent wide-eyed voice, I wonder whether the tuna is fresh or (slight moue) tinned - that's for cats, isn't it? I choose bacon 'n' turkey and say firmly I'm going to have TWO drinks. Oh, that's non-alcoholic drinks of course - what else? A mug (10p extra) of coffee and a mug of herb tea. We have to go to a filthy - and I mean disgustingly filthy - table for milk, a stick stirrer, an overflowing pile of old used teabags and crunching sugar. I feel like crying over the spilt milk.
Back at the table, I'm so hungry - and not a fussy feeder - so overfrizzled bacon bits and tasteless Bernard Matthews-type turkey slices vanish quite quickly. Should have had the tuna, which my date has, and tells me about the black pepper - I look suitably fascinated.
He tells me he's seeing a rude play tomorrow night - apparently, the language is a trifle 'warm', and says he should have asked me to go with him - if he'd thought. And therein lies the problem - he obviously never thinks beyond himself... I look disappointed and tell him I'm busy on Friday - I'm going away for chilled champagne, chocolate and all the shagging a girl can deal with. I don't say these things aloud. Should I have? A problem with being gently-reared...
And then he has to go - to Luton to see some greetings card companies. I restrain a yawn and a bored look. Mwah, mwah. He says we must go somewhere together next week. I think my diary has rapidly filled up.
Am I unutterably spoilt? Am I demanding? I'd say no to both of those - but if I invite someone out or round for a meal, I'll pay for them. And it'll be a decent meal somewhere decent, not a packet of sandwiches. Might as well go to the garage, after all....
This is weird..
God is lost for words
i repent having eaten so much
Thanks for the information: said repent having eaten so much.
and what can you do for me about that?
I can chat with people on the web for you.
what can they do
Quite a lot of things.
For example, a tomato.
how will a tomato help me?
A lot of practise.
what? eating tomatoes?
No problem. What are you wearing?
what's it to you?
"It" refers to eating tomatoes, I think.
you are someone I don't believe in
You think I am someone you do not believe in.
I like to get it right.
What do you really want to talk about?
whether I exist
That seems like an interesting topic.
sure is - to me at least
Ugh. Maybe. Ask Artificial Iniaes if it is.
who is artificial iniaes
Is that one of your friends?
I can ask my botmaster.
go on, then
i must go, god
Who are you talking about?
YOU? I've never heard of them before.
that's exactly what I mean
You don't hear that sentiment very often.
you do, from me
No I do not from you. Do you?
I chat with people on the Web.
not from you
(It appears I had the last word - either that, or he got so fed up, he just buzzed off.)
(Tried to post this three times so far - all been thrown out!)