Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Fragment (consider revising)

Preternaturally warm morning. The sun arrived ready-baked, all spring, summer and autumn kneaded together and crispy from the oven.

Pots are parched, a bit of a withered invitation to the door. Mind you, not one for tidy gardening, specially not this year, when neighbours to the side of me, neighbours in front of me are embracing pattern imprinted concrete, conservatories and fencing. Our garden is untrimmed. A catchall for escapees. The bugs need somewhere to scuttle to. Or buzz off to. The hedgehogs need a hiding place.

The whole Unbreakable Vow thing, (which of course has been preceded by a former Unbreakable Vow which overrules the terms and conditions of later UVs rendering them null and void. And not just because I fancy Snape a bit) has got me thinking about the lovely things that JKR creates and then drops. How often in this book could we have done with Hermione’s time-turny thing? If I remember rightly, Prof McG warned against their overuse and took it back at the end of Azkaban, but still. Is it not tucked away in a cupboard somewhere? If it was thought suitable for one girl to thoroughly overuse for an entire wizardly academic year, could Mac not just dig it out from behind the juicer and breadmaker, for justice and righteousness, just once?

(Liking the idea of a breadmaker for justice and righteousness, I'm thinking of removing the last comma in the previous paragraph. The Panasonic SD253a, with dispenser for nuts, raisins, justice and righteousness. So you don't have to drag yourself up from in front of Eastenders when the programme beeps, and scatter it in yourself. That's such a nuisance)

I first typed the above as having a dispenser for nits, raisins, justice and righteousness. Think on.

Perhaps Mac's like me. Clutterbugging up her life with Justin Case for years, til rampaged by the furious ice-blast ice age of yearned-for minimalism and clear, white surfaces.

Perhaps that's what you get for cleaning out your cupboards. Maybe the boxed sandwich toaster I've Freecycled will give me a forehead slapping moment when I face the cheese and pickle toastie worshipping monsters of doom.


Saturday, August 27, 2005

toto, we’re not at summer school anymore

It’s very simple, Gruff. All you have to do is get up before me, and set a place at the table, complete with napkin and side plate, glass, cup and saucer, and jug of orange juice.

Place a generous bowl of fruit, plate of croissants, selection of boxed individual cereal portions and choice of yoghurts at the other end of the table.

I will come downstairs, make my selection from these, sit at the laid place and pour myself a glass of juice.

You will approach to politely enquire, Would you like any tea or coffee, Madam? Any toast? I’ll decide that I would quite like some coffee and, yes, some toast. Thank you.

You will bring this across, quickly. The toast cut into triangles and filling a toast rack… Sorry?.. Well, perhaps you could go out and buy one, then.

You’ll then enquire, politely, mind, Would you like a cooked breakfast this morning, Madam? I’ll ask for everything that is veggie, please. This you will bring. Quickly.

Oh, although speed and attention to detail is, of course, key to the smooth running of this operation, what makes the breakfast, the thing that without this the entire breakfast experience would fail, is that you are friendly. And smile.

Oh, and it also helps if you are young and full of the sparkle of anticipated relish and success in life that being an Oxford undergrad working through the holidays brings.


Thanks, love.

Do you have any brown sauce?

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

tNE AQU 3rd squ nSA TA 6th

Waiting for a phone call, a text, about Hairykid.

Hairykid is the best dog in the world, ever. He is my mate, in English terms. He lives with my big sister and is ten and a half.

I like seeing Hairykid. He has long since tagged me as alternate Alpha Female. He jumps onto my lap and stares with triumph and disdain down his big, long, black and white Hairykid nose at my kids. Who love him. And cuddle him. He tolerates it.

I like Hairykid’s company. We spent last week at my big sister’s, so look after Hairykid and the cats while they tented it off down to Brands Hatch for bike stuff with each other, and down to Kent for beach stuff with daughter-niece and the other, newer, more typically doggy dog.

I had Hairykid’s company for a day or so. Sharing every chair or sofa, doggy smelly back to my front; doggy smelly belly exposed for tickles; big, long black and white Hairykid nose against my cheek. Snoring, snorting doggy breath.

A phonecall to my big sis, a phonecall to me, and we popped Hairykid along to his vet’s for a couple of days residency.

Hairykid had had a nasty bellyache a couple of days before, a nasty belly ache a couple of months before.

The blood tests were back.

Hairykid stayed with the vet until Sunday afternoon, and offered me his belly on return. Stuffed his big, long, black Hairykid nose into my hand. We left the Hairykid and drove the couple of hundred miles up, across and home.

Hairykid is having more blood tests today, but, from what I understand, they are not necessary.

Pacreatitis, acute necrotizing pancreatitis, means that his enzymes are eating him away from the inside out. There isn’t a cure that has worked.

Love you, Hairykid.