Nothing's good about shopping. The prices are up. Christmas is coming.
Other shoppers are revolting. Shoppers travelling on buses are revolting especially the one who hacked up a lung behind my right ear. Especially the other two who discussed in very loud voices how many of their budgies had died over the last five years. One was on her way to buy another feathered sacrifice, in my opinion they both should have had their licence to own anything living revoked. A good thing she hadn't already bought it or the lunghacker would have germed to death.
I was ready for the usual problems with the trolley but today I got one that moved smoothly with the wheels doing everything asked of them. I didn't ask them to go sideways and fall down the crack where the lift doors open. Lift, heave, swear and run into the little old lady in the wheelchair. "No problem, dear," she says. "You're having the same kind of day I am. Do you see the bruises on my neck?" Good Lord, she looked like someone who'd been hanging around in a Clint Eastwood movie. "I tripped this morning and strangled myself with my dressing gown belt." Dum de dum dah!! I was just about to check my "what would Jane Marple do?" wristband when I caught the eye of the chair wheeler. Instantly I recognised those eyes, we were kindred souls. Another member of the Victorian Order of Spinster Daughters and Chair Wheelers. That "God only knows what she really did" look was better than a Masonic handshake.
The only good thing, two good things really, my blood pressure apparently isn't high enough to cause a stroke (yet) and my weight hasn't soared as much as I thought, only put on one kilogram. Popped into the Bohemian Pastry shop to celebrate. No almond croissants, I had to make do with a coffee iced confection loaded with coffee and chocolate cream. I hate having to make do. One should never disappoint one's stomach.
17 comments:
No...Christmas isn't coming. It's only October...Christmas is a good quarter of a year away. We've still got Halloween and, over here in Blighty at any rate, Guy Fawkes night to go. Christmas isn't even on the agenda for the vast majority of rational thinking people...except that it is. It's forced upon us with carols and glittery cheap decorations and dancing Santas with American accents and all the other crap associated with the commercial season that the supermarkets adorn their vaccuous lairs with. Special offers on mince pies. Mince pies, for Christ's sake! Just imagine how mouldy and green they'll be by Christmas Day. And yet people are buying them. And Disney wrapping paper. And Dalek selection boxes and nasty, third rate crackers etc. Christmas comes but once a year, but it gets longer and longer and longer each time...and I utterly detest it.
There's a dancing Santa for sale here at a measley $258, I was married to a dancing Santa, they're overrated. Guy Fawkes night is my divorce anniversary and I'd love to nick down to the dancing Santa's new house and explode it.
Samhain, love it and got my outfit all ready. I'm hiding goblins in the garden and coating the house with gingerbread. Wanna come over to play little Hughesy?
Ooooh, I'm so jealous of Guy Fawkes night. Fuck Australia and its pathetic PC crap and its fireworks are nasty [only for the rich people when there's something terribly important on] and we can't have bonfires because you're all stupid and irresponsible and you'll only start bushfires and make smog!
My birthday's in late November so I ignore Christmas until then at the very least. Actually I just tend to ignore Christmas anyway - I seem to have missed the point.
Funny when you connect with someone like that. You could wish you could have more time with them, but it is best not to or it will spoil.
Actually I'm not a big fan of Guy Fawkes night. I was when I was a kid, but nowadays its all very, very loud explosions (amazing they're still allowed to sell those things when terrorism is so high on the agenda) that frighten our cat. And I can't understand why we celebrate the fact that somebody failed to blow up the Houses of Parliament.
Now Samhain...which is what Bonfire night really is -- Guy Fawkes was actually hung, drawn and quartered and never went anywhere near a bongy -- or Teanleas night as it used to be known around these parts...is a different story. Coating the house with gingerbread sounds interesting. I haven't had a good licking in the cellar since I was four and our ninety-four year old neighbour fell down the coal chute in his nightgown.
Nails, best use of John Howard ever, a giant firecracker on top of a liberal bonfire and I bet Costello would be there with the matches.
We're a very select group Andrew and I wasn't joking about the bruise on the old girl's neck, it was a beauty.
You know why he failed to blow up Parliament? Dodgy gunpowder! I think I've got a post on gunpowder stuck in draft somewhere. I agree with you about the animals, they go crazy around here on New Year's Eve.
Brian, they abolished the whole thing when I was quite small but from memory we didn't even do it in November - it was still pretty cold, not late spring [ha!] weather at all.
Also, I think I misinterpreted 'a good licking in the cellar' but it made me laugh anyway.
Jahteh - so that's the new back up plan if Maxine doesn't get Bennelong? If he loses [I will not jinx it with anything but an if] I do believe that the entire party will be there with awkwardly placed explosives and boxes of matches. I do hope they televise it.
The words "married to a dancing Santa" caused a sudden disturbance in my gut. Then I realised I'd laughed. How unusual.
Bonfires were how we got rid of our rubbish in those days, one night three blokes put a huge wardrobe on, and the blaze was enormous. Someone called the fire brigade, just before it spread to the houses.
Marvellous fun, I miss it.
Nails, I'd say you probably didn't misintepret the cellar incident, he's led an exotic life.
Election night is goint to be big, BIG, bloody BIG as in having a razor blade to open a vein if the little mongrel wins and on the other side of the chair, a big bottle of Champagne when he loses. We shouldn't get complacent, I've been watching a seat and sniggering at a loathsome little beast as he went down in the betting but he's rallying and the seat has moved back to the coalition which is causing a lot of f'ing to be yelled.
Rh, where have you been? Ms O'Dyne sent a card from the sunny north so she lives. I really was married to a Santa, he used to do the corporate children's parties and didn't need padding. He also hated kids. They had a huge turn at the hospital and my sister bribed a kid with a melting icecream to go and sit on his knee.
Which reminds me Hughes, how come we, in the colonies, are getting pommy mince pies in October which would have had to be shipped in July to get here? They'd have enough preservatives to keep Lord Sedgwick alive indefinitely. He's probably got one in the attic mouldering away like the picture of Dorian Gray but in this case it's a worm ridden pastry.
Feel free to join in, he's off to the races tomorrow so he won't read anything til Monday when the hangover wears off.
um.. is beginning to look like there's a cardboard cut-out of Merry xmas cheer, and a cottonwool disguise on the local "hand-out" Santa .. heh heh heh.
Don't blame me...I don't work in the mince pie industry. I can't stand the things. Hate figgy pudding too. And bawbles and Disney films and the huge mounds of dead Christmas trees they pile up in the ginnel next to my house on Boxing Day...why don't they just plant the damned things in the park? You can guarantee its the ones whinging about environmental issues that always buy real fir trees and them leave their sorry little corpses to die in the allies after New Year...and school choirs singing sycophantic Christian hymns, and the Archbishop of Cantebury's Christmas Message...same every year..."We must return to traditional Christmas values". So he wants a return to slaughtering a wild boar and hanging its entrails from the branches of the local trees accompanied by a big Pagan piss-up then does he? I'll be honest, I just hate Christmas. In fact I hate everything where large groups of brain-dead people are having fun...football matches, bongy night, carnivals, Halloween...they're all noisy and irritating and full of plebs accusing me of being a killjoy. Good...rather a killjoy than a dickwit.
Ahem...think I need to top my glass up after that.
Jeepers, Hughes ( ah shit jeezus? sheesh? Dammit have run out of useful euphemisms) .. and here's me thinking am a cynic ...Oh well .. there has to be a winner .. somewhere, i guess, sort of ..
I like Christmas. And New Year's Eve too. During the fireworks I get my rifle out a fire off a shot.
(Oh)
Naughty boy.
"I hate having to make do. One should never disappoint one's stomach." Brilliamt Jahteh! still laughing
Nowt wrong with Halloween, you get to frighten the bejabbers out of creepy little kids. Davo, do not match Hughes glass for glass, you'll both die.
My tree is a little tinselly thing that I've had for for than 30 years and I just re-tinsel it when it gets naked. I haven't got over the trauma of that story of the little Christmas tree that was so thrilled to be decorated and then got tossed out in the snow. Who writes these horror stories for sensitive children who believe teddy bears are alive.
Rh, you have a gun, with bullets? The latte set's worst nightmare.
MC, you being an old hippy and me being an old pagan, we should met somewhere for an old hippy pagan piss-up. All we need is a sacrifice and Lord Hughes isn't doing anything for Christmas except grinching.
I'm bringing you to my place New Year's Eve.
You'll see for yourself.
-Robert.
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