Wednesday, June 29, 2005

ork and chips

G: Zig, Do you want to come with me when I help out at Molster’s Brownies? We’ve got owls coming to visit, and perhaps a hawk.

Z: A HAWK?.. Like in Lord of the Rings?.. Coming to Brownies?..


No Zig, that’s an Ork. If there was going to be an Ork at Brownies tonight I don’t think I’d be rushing to help out. Unless it had really good tattoos. This is a hawk. A bird. With wings. That hovers. And eats mice and stuff.

[Later. At Brownies]

Owl Lady: Can anyone tell me what the owls eat?.. Yes… Yes, that’s right… Hmm… not really anything that big… Yes, all the birds here eat mice and rats and day old chicks.

Z: They eat day old chips?

Today, we’ve moved on. Today, after the excitement of holding a Great Grey Owl that was about as tall as him on a gauntlet longer than his arm (picture to follow, I hope), he has other things on his mind. Apparently, it’s not right that willies don’t have bones, however, it’s good that air is see-through or we wouldn’t be able to find the chocolate biscuits.

Friday, June 10, 2005

glass houses

If your curtains pong of months of joss stick. If the pong slices the top off fresh, new summer (Summer! Now Fresh and New!!). If this doesn’t exactly help you not feel trapped, trapped, all is suffocating, will I never clear this torpid smother from my house and heart, it’s all ooze, it’s all ooze and smothering, suffocating, vile, endless, lifeless drear and drudge.

Then it might be an idea to pop them in the washing machine.

If then there’s a small, dense indiarubber thunk against the window, it might be a small garden bird, believing it can fly right on through from curtainless back window to front, and you might reach it just as its beak stops open-shutting and its heart stops trembling, and you might even though it's dead find it a box with some hay and lay it there before it cools and keep it on the shelf above your computer for the entire day and try to block the indiarubber round calls of the bird’s mate / parent from the garden, and you might curse the joss and the curtains and the windows and the torpid, smothering, suffocating, vile, endless, lifeless drear and drudge of being here and whose bloody idea was this life and joss and curtain cleaning thing anyway?

And a few days later you might be up at three, again, and typing away and tea slurping away you might reflect that really it was one of the better parts of the week.

Hulk Visits the Eden Project: Grrr, use hemp and make fetching strawberry growers from old grain sacks or I'll get really, really angry.