Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
It was 7.30 pm and there we were, the Fellow and I (keeping to our resolution of a healthier lifestyle), getting ready to enjoy a quiet dinner of home-made pav-bhaji, apple juice and an episode of The Waking Dead or Bones (depending on who sulked more) when the phone rang. It was the Fellow’s deputy boss giving him a heads up – the boss and he (and wives and kids) were coming over.
Now under ordinary circumstances, this would have meant we groaned and whined about the evening being ruined and how we’d probably have to be up late into the night listening to the ramblings of a chap who really enjoys his drink. But not today.
Today we didn’t have the time to complain – we were too busy cleaning up. Thankfully the maid happened to come by at that exact same time and so we had 3 pairs of hands stuffing things into the spare room and dragging furniture back in place. So in went stacks of cds, a huge stuffed dog, a large bag of coins, a roll of toilet paper, a lounge chair, a couple of helmets, piles of papers and files, one suitcase with the Fellow’s clothes and two handbags full of books. There was also a moment of brilliance when I reminded the Fellow he’d wanted to enjoy a bonfire for quite some days now, and today was as good an opportunity as any for it. And so the maid was dispatched to get some wood for the bonfire, dust off the garden chairs and put my newly potted plants to one side to avoid breakage.
15 minutes later the house (what part the guests would see) was presentable, the alcohol had been reviewed, ice-cube trays emptied and refilled, hair combed, a couple of disprins had (by the Fellow), and onions and tomatoes chopped for a quick snack.
20 minutes later we were fake-smiling, laughing and offering drinks. 24 minutes later the Fellow realised he needed to get some more soda and vanished (for the next 30 minutes), returning triumphant with lots of chicken tikka.
And the rest of the evening was spent around a bonfire, discussing how good the chicken is.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
For three days now I’ve been trying to write one measly little post giving my opinion on another year ending, bemoaning the passage of time and how it flies blah blah blah. And for three days now, all I’ve really done is clatter a few sentences out, and then hit the backspace key. Rinse and repeat. I’m so frustrated right now I can literally see the five hundred kilo block in my head that refuses to let the words through. And the words are there. Oh yes. A mob of them really, clambering, jostling, screaming even, yet unable to get through that barrier. Makes me miss the days of pen and paper writing really, when I could just tear stuff up and vent and match the chaos happening inside my head.
And so while I wait the mind-riot out and hope a meteorite falls on that barrier and smashes it to pieces, the three of you reading this space go and have a fun 2011.