Thursday, December 27, 2007

Where have I been?

Oh well, you know how it is....Christmas, trouble at mill at work, egregious slithering activities resulting in hole in my bank account the size of Northern Rock's defecit and the a slight limp I am publicly attributing to overdoing it at Le Palais Du Sweat (Gym).

However my time is a little more liberal at the moment and I am able to blog once more. Now, I know that if you leave these things alone for a bit, your readership dies out. However I am uplifting it again.

In general news Donna Da Lodga was furious with me over the Elvis post. I shall say no more on it though. That what needed to be said was said. And we are chums again. I shall be more circumspect in wittering about my muses in future.

But a new year brings new challenges, fresh starts and old light through new windows. or is it New light through old windows..... oh well.

First challenge is renewing one's insurance. There is scant pleasure in handing over wads of treasure to the blinkered thieves of St Mary's Axe in town so they can parcel it out amongst themselves only to refuse payment on the flimsiest of grounds.

One fragment of joy is the discovery of the minor inclusion in my contents policy, in that it now includes liability for injury to 'Domestic Staff'.
Presumably should I take it upon myself to administer a thrashing to the scullery maid and the witless socialist takes it upon herself to sue me in some kangaroo court of leftieness in Europe, I'm covered - as she probably deserved it?

Friday, December 07, 2007

Elvis has left the Building

I'm caught in a trap....there's no way back

I was eating a late supper when the phone rang. It was Donna-da-Lodga's grandmother wishing parley with her grand-daughter.

Passed phone over and in moments her face fell and she started crying uncontrollably. Through the sobs she said 'when did you find him?'. I naturally thought she was talking about her grandfather. I was very concerned and offered her team and sympathy as one quite rightly would.
She finished the call and I said gently - 'was it your grandfather?'

'No', she sobbed. 'It's Elvis.'

'Elvis?? what, like in Graceland? And this has just reached you?'

'He's My Nan's budgie.'

'He's called Elvis??'

'Yes', she sobbed - 'I tamed him.'

'You tamed him? Was he Wild?' (he was probably livid - hat tip to Rowan Atkinson's Gerald the Gorilla for that gag)

'No, from when he was 7 days old. They are very timid when they are chicks and I taught him to like people. He's like a doggie to them. .

'What, they take him for walks?'

'No but they let him fly around the house.'

'On a lead?'

'You don't understand what it is to love animals like we do in my family - look at my sister's
love for her rabbit.' (Sister's rabbit has had a hysterectomy - how they worked out it was menopausal is beyond me - let alone the outpourings of grief attendant with the procedure)

The conversation tailed off at this point…as the futility of reasoning and rationality became obvious - as her love for the quadrapedical slobber machine that is her dog is evident so much that she feels the need to keep him cooped up all day, doesn't change his water, wash his dinner bowl between feeds and needs nagging to walk him daily.

A reprise to the conversation came this morning when she asked me what had happened to the butterfly which had taken up residence in the light fitting in the bathroom.

'Donna, I put him out of his misery'
Her face clouded, tears begin to well.

'Look, I picked him up, he had two legs left and a broken proboscis. Attempted to feed it with some glucose solution and it couldn't feed. It was only right that he was dispatched.'

'You weren't cruel where you?' (Ye gods is there no end to this?)

'I buried him at sea', I said eyeing the Loo.

All this apparently makes me cruel and obviously I know nothing of animal husbandry. Anyway. Not enough meat on a budgie for my liking.

Thursday, December 06, 2007

History repeating itself

It is oft said that a rummage around a cupboard indicates much of an individual and the colour of their character.
I wonder what it could mean, then, when I am forced by a necessity to delve into a cupboard that Donna da Lodga has made her own.

The cupboard beneath my sink was claimed as hers when she moved in. She also claimed other drawers and the like in my clean minimalistic kitchen of epicurianism for horrors such as Smash, instant noodles and an unearthly amount of stale cake mix.
I haven't had the occasion to delve into such a well staked out territory until the other day. I will divulge why later. Suffice to say the cupboard under the sink has been her preserve for a while and it was with a slow childlike wonderment that I cast open the door and had to move out the stocks within.

Being an organised soul it seemed natural to sort out some of the contents. I shall leave you dear reader to fathom the inner workings of the dear girl's bonce - but there was either a degree of hoarding or reflex purchasing going on.
4 separate (and full) bottles of bleach. Various flavours.
6 Magic tree air fresheners
30 assorted spongy scourer things (all unused)
cotton and thread, velcro fastening strip
4 bottles whiffy fabric softener
3 tins spray air freshener
Bounce - one box
Persil sachets - loads
Two bottles dishwasher rinse-aid
Vanish granules - large tub
Shake and vac - two tubs

This is a girl who is clearly fearful of some cleanliness catastrophe in the very near future or one which believes we may face wartime-esque shortages and is panic buying.

Why was I under the sink?

Plumbo Jumbo needed access.

With a grim certainty of the circle line failing to work; DDL cooking and using the waste disposal following the Boy lard's attempts to plug my drains with filler had the effect predicted.
A sure as eggs is eggs I was awoken from my slumber on Sunday afternoon to behold a sink full of brown and wet not going anywhere.
I attached the plunger to the spotlight in the garden, shone the silhouette onto the clouds and waited for the pink van and chap with turbo-reamer to arrive.

It was bound to happen, sooner or later.

PS: yes I know I have been away. Been terribly busy. Slithering and work.