Friday, June 13, 2008
Placenta and a buffet
Another party, and another late night loomed. The talk at Vulcan and Xo's place was of placentas, mainly, with Xo being pregnant and all. There were a range of terrible things done with after-births - freezing, eating, burying etc. 'The after-birth is very psychedelic,' says Fiddler. Xo agrees - 'Men are more interested in the placenta than the baby.' I find this fairly hard to believe, but who knows - strange changes come over people the minute they experience birth, so it seems. The talk wanders to all manner of other gory talk, as we eat the bountiful buffet they laid out (including odd but interesting elderflower fritters) - to a cat that ate its own testicles after having them removed (and finding them in a sink shortly after coming around); the act of sex to bring on labour; the child-birth video that was shown last night (see previous entry); and another after-birth story about a guy who accidentally defrosted someone's afterbirth whilst looking for a meaty snack (better labelling discipline was required, we decided). Wife was driven home by such chatter and the need to record Grey's Anatomy. I followed, thankfully, early.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Thursday 12th June
Deathly tired today after a medium-late night with DrC. We started at the Gson for the latest anti-evil event, which was a surreal affair featuring a slideshow of adders and a graphic birth video (which I missed, thankfully, being outside). DrC was in jubilant mood after landing his new job, so ordered unwise whisky chasers with every pint. Something I joined in with, but with less gusto, somehow. Afterhours there was the usual angst and panic over the prospect of returning home, going to bed, and hastening the next work day, when all that is really desired is more consumption. So we head back to our gaff and crack open the wine and beer and smokes. The whisky combo soon has an effect on DrC though, and just slightly over the music we can hear the sounds of violent diaphragm action upstairs. So, night cut short, just as well, given the morning I'm having...
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Buzzing noises
A few things, okay then, a lot of things, can wake me during the night, being such a light sleeper - the wife's phone, dying on the kitchen table, forlornly in the early hours; the cats playing with a spider near my feet; rain; wind... You get the idea.
Last night at 3am a buzzing noise woke me from a deep, deep sleep. I immediately dismissed it as a text message emanating from my jeans across the room, and turned over. But the damage is done. Woken from a deep sleep, there is rarely any return for me. So I lie awake for an hour, turning with large sighs, cursing the person who texted me at 3am.
I fall asleep again, only for the same thing to happen at 5am. 5am is a horrible time. If you are awake at 5am then you are either up too late, or up to early. There's no reasonable reason to be awake. This time I'm awake until almost 7am, when I have to get up, feeling awful.
First thing I do is check my phone to see who I shall spend the day hating, but there's nothing there. No messages, no missed calls. Likewise on the wife's mobile. What it was remains a mystery...
Last night at 3am a buzzing noise woke me from a deep, deep sleep. I immediately dismissed it as a text message emanating from my jeans across the room, and turned over. But the damage is done. Woken from a deep sleep, there is rarely any return for me. So I lie awake for an hour, turning with large sighs, cursing the person who texted me at 3am.
I fall asleep again, only for the same thing to happen at 5am. 5am is a horrible time. If you are awake at 5am then you are either up too late, or up to early. There's no reasonable reason to be awake. This time I'm awake until almost 7am, when I have to get up, feeling awful.
First thing I do is check my phone to see who I shall spend the day hating, but there's nothing there. No messages, no missed calls. Likewise on the wife's mobile. What it was remains a mystery...
Monday, April 14, 2008
Monday morning, again
Feeling truly awful this morning. An entire weekend spent in bed, or snoozing on the sofa, coughing and self-medicating with red wine, codeine and Benylin. Head feels like it is being squeezed with a large, troll-sized hand. Eyes hurt when I look anywhere but straight ahead. Sinuses burn with each breath. I should really take the day off sick, but think I'll try and do a little bit anyway, as I'm ever-so-slightly behind in my current project schedule.
Also not helping is the fact that we were woken up at 6am by Nimba who brought us a little brown mouse from the garden. Cue some early morning shrieking as I catch the mouse.
'Eeee! There's another one!' Cries the wife. But it's just a curled up stereo earphone set.
I drop the mouse out of the bedroom window, fully nude as I stand on the widow ledge, and it drops down into the kitchen gutter and twitches on its back pitifully.
'Ah.' I say.
I try to get back to sleep, but feel a bit guilty about the twitching mouse outside. Especially after yesterday... I'll get to that in a minute.
At 7am, the real time for getting up, I have another look in the gutter, and happily the mouse is gone. I'm still ill though, but stagger downstairs to prepare breakfast anyway.
Yesterday I was summoned to the dining room by some frantic shouting from the wife. This time it's Enki who has a prize - a tiny brown bird. It is still alive, but barely. Most of its feathers are gone, chewed away, it has blood under it's throat and it seems to be able to twitch just one side of it's body in a rhythmic, non-too-healthy kind of way.
We spend some minutes wondering what to do. It's going to die pretty soon, we think it should be put out of its obvious misery as soon as possible. But how to do it? I suggest drowning, via the toilet and flush, but the wife wants the neck-break or head-bash instead.
Now, I'm a vegetarian, so have little call or experience for killing animals. I have killed some fish in my time though, as a boy angler, and remember the technique seemed quick and fairly humane - you would take the metal 'priest' and bang the fish's head with it. Simple as that.
So we take the twitching bird into the back yard and place it on a stone slab. I find a suitable, heavy rock and take aim, warning the wife to look away.
Okay, sorry bird, but it's for the best. BANG!
I wasn't prepared for the splat really. Bird heads appear to be a lot flimsier than fish heads. The head basically flattens and some unpleasant matter spreads out around the area. The bird now starts writhing with some energy.
'Shit.' I mourn, and hit it again, twice. Messy, nasty, it finally stops twitching.
Was that a painless, humane death? Sure as hell didn't look like it to me.
Also not helping is the fact that we were woken up at 6am by Nimba who brought us a little brown mouse from the garden. Cue some early morning shrieking as I catch the mouse.
'Eeee! There's another one!' Cries the wife. But it's just a curled up stereo earphone set.
I drop the mouse out of the bedroom window, fully nude as I stand on the widow ledge, and it drops down into the kitchen gutter and twitches on its back pitifully.
'Ah.' I say.
I try to get back to sleep, but feel a bit guilty about the twitching mouse outside. Especially after yesterday... I'll get to that in a minute.
At 7am, the real time for getting up, I have another look in the gutter, and happily the mouse is gone. I'm still ill though, but stagger downstairs to prepare breakfast anyway.
Yesterday I was summoned to the dining room by some frantic shouting from the wife. This time it's Enki who has a prize - a tiny brown bird. It is still alive, but barely. Most of its feathers are gone, chewed away, it has blood under it's throat and it seems to be able to twitch just one side of it's body in a rhythmic, non-too-healthy kind of way.
We spend some minutes wondering what to do. It's going to die pretty soon, we think it should be put out of its obvious misery as soon as possible. But how to do it? I suggest drowning, via the toilet and flush, but the wife wants the neck-break or head-bash instead.
Now, I'm a vegetarian, so have little call or experience for killing animals. I have killed some fish in my time though, as a boy angler, and remember the technique seemed quick and fairly humane - you would take the metal 'priest' and bang the fish's head with it. Simple as that.
So we take the twitching bird into the back yard and place it on a stone slab. I find a suitable, heavy rock and take aim, warning the wife to look away.
Okay, sorry bird, but it's for the best. BANG!
I wasn't prepared for the splat really. Bird heads appear to be a lot flimsier than fish heads. The head basically flattens and some unpleasant matter spreads out around the area. The bird now starts writhing with some energy.
'Shit.' I mourn, and hit it again, twice. Messy, nasty, it finally stops twitching.
Was that a painless, humane death? Sure as hell didn't look like it to me.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
SuperNoodles are horrible
In desperation, in the madness of hunger, I found a packet of SuperNoodles at the back of my cupboard. Sweet and Sour flavour...
Into the pan they went, I forgot to measure the amount of water, but just slooshed some in. After a few minutes I tasted the brew - oh my god, wtf is that? Chemical sensations linger on my tongue for a few moments and then fade, leaving merely a sticky, tacky, metallic one. I actually shudder at this point.
What can we add? What can we add? Ah! Here we are, soy sauce! Splash! And chilli sauce! Splash! Cook, cook, taste, shudder. Hmm, I know, some cheese, I like cheese. I imagine a thick, rich cheesy sauce with noodles in it. Chip chop! In the cheese goes. Cook, cook, taste, oh my god, it's bad, bad, bad. The cheese seems to have separated into thin yellow liquid and sticky solids... Not good.
Must thicken sauce up to make it into the delightful cheesy pleasure I imagined. In wades the cornflower. Not one to pussyfoot around, he adds himself liberally (after mixing in a little cold water of course! Ha, I've done that trick before) and we Cook, cook, taste, shudder.
Well, damn it, I've invested too much in this now. So I eat it. Every chemically, cheesy, thick mouthful of it.
I feel a little ill...
Thanks, Batchelors SuperNoodles, what a great lunch. (The SuperNoodle catchphrase is 'you are what you eat')
Into the pan they went, I forgot to measure the amount of water, but just slooshed some in. After a few minutes I tasted the brew - oh my god, wtf is that? Chemical sensations linger on my tongue for a few moments and then fade, leaving merely a sticky, tacky, metallic one. I actually shudder at this point.
What can we add? What can we add? Ah! Here we are, soy sauce! Splash! And chilli sauce! Splash! Cook, cook, taste, shudder. Hmm, I know, some cheese, I like cheese. I imagine a thick, rich cheesy sauce with noodles in it. Chip chop! In the cheese goes. Cook, cook, taste, oh my god, it's bad, bad, bad. The cheese seems to have separated into thin yellow liquid and sticky solids... Not good.
Must thicken sauce up to make it into the delightful cheesy pleasure I imagined. In wades the cornflower. Not one to pussyfoot around, he adds himself liberally (after mixing in a little cold water of course! Ha, I've done that trick before) and we Cook, cook, taste, shudder.
Well, damn it, I've invested too much in this now. So I eat it. Every chemically, cheesy, thick mouthful of it.
I feel a little ill...
Thanks, Batchelors SuperNoodles, what a great lunch. (The SuperNoodle catchphrase is 'you are what you eat')
Friday, January 25, 2008
A knitted village... Words fail me.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Thursday, January 17, 2008
'the orphans' first gig, stonewell...
Friday, December 21, 2007
Odd dream
I had this dream the other night, most vivid for a long time. After mulling it over for a while I know what it means now. Do you?
I found myself in a world where something terrible had happened and I was surrounded by Zombies. They seemed to be everywhere and all the un-afflicted people would have to be constantly on guard in case of attack. It wasn't too difficult to defeat these Zombies though, a simple whack on the head with any suitable tool would do the trick. But you always had to be on your guard, lest you were bitten as you slept.
After some time living in this world, I found my way to a large group of people who were not Zombies and had a long-term plan for the future. As I chatted to them an enormous rat-like creature, larger than an elephant appeared; roaring and snarling, its huge teeth gnashing as it ran towards the group.
I grabbed a phaser-type gun from someone and opened fire. The creature was stopped, but seemed to take a long time to die. It fixed me in the eye and said, 'Don't kill me, I have something important to tell you.' But I didn't believe it, and fired on. 'Tell me quickly, so I can stop firing before you die.' I said. 'Ah,' it replied, in agony, 'it would take longer than that.' And died.
At this point two huge unearthly swords appeared shooting up into the sky, one red, one blue, stretching from the horizon to above our heads. A voice from everywhere at once boomed, 'By your act, you have chosen the to have your world ruled by men, not by gods.'
I realised then that the voice was from a race of alien-like creatures, who had caused the Zombies and the rat, and that this was all part of some vast plan, unknowable for now.
The blue sword fell from the sky towards us, it's fiery blade flashing.
As it hit us the everything changed and found myself in a new world. The Zombies were gone, and all around were people, going about their normal business. All was as it used to be, but the architecture was strange, the people odd.
I lived in this world for a while, until one day I was in a recreational building, watching a group of men drink beer and banter. A feeling of deja-vu came over me as I listened to them. I realised suddenly that I had heard this before, word-for-word, in a sitcom from a decade earlier. This was scripted, all these people were fakes, nothing was real, or as it seemed after all. This was still part of the aliens' plan.
I wandered outside and awoke.
I found myself in a world where something terrible had happened and I was surrounded by Zombies. They seemed to be everywhere and all the un-afflicted people would have to be constantly on guard in case of attack. It wasn't too difficult to defeat these Zombies though, a simple whack on the head with any suitable tool would do the trick. But you always had to be on your guard, lest you were bitten as you slept.
After some time living in this world, I found my way to a large group of people who were not Zombies and had a long-term plan for the future. As I chatted to them an enormous rat-like creature, larger than an elephant appeared; roaring and snarling, its huge teeth gnashing as it ran towards the group.
I grabbed a phaser-type gun from someone and opened fire. The creature was stopped, but seemed to take a long time to die. It fixed me in the eye and said, 'Don't kill me, I have something important to tell you.' But I didn't believe it, and fired on. 'Tell me quickly, so I can stop firing before you die.' I said. 'Ah,' it replied, in agony, 'it would take longer than that.' And died.
At this point two huge unearthly swords appeared shooting up into the sky, one red, one blue, stretching from the horizon to above our heads. A voice from everywhere at once boomed, 'By your act, you have chosen the to have your world ruled by men, not by gods.'
I realised then that the voice was from a race of alien-like creatures, who had caused the Zombies and the rat, and that this was all part of some vast plan, unknowable for now.
The blue sword fell from the sky towards us, it's fiery blade flashing.
As it hit us the everything changed and found myself in a new world. The Zombies were gone, and all around were people, going about their normal business. All was as it used to be, but the architecture was strange, the people odd.
I lived in this world for a while, until one day I was in a recreational building, watching a group of men drink beer and banter. A feeling of deja-vu came over me as I listened to them. I realised suddenly that I had heard this before, word-for-word, in a sitcom from a decade earlier. This was scripted, all these people were fakes, nothing was real, or as it seemed after all. This was still part of the aliens' plan.
I wandered outside and awoke.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Saturday, November 03, 2007
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
The elusive echoing bridge under the...
Monday, October 29, 2007
From a seaside town they forgot to...
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Ah, first fire in the new house!
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Friday, October 12, 2007
Monday, October 08, 2007
Hi-grease meal of champions...
Yes, that's a large amount of tempura. Batter made with cider and folded-in whipped egg whites. Fillings of squash, sweet potato, aubergine, mushrooms, French beans, tofu and some chillis stuffed with cheese. Greasy but damn good.
Pint at the george
Outside the George and Dragon pub ion the Quay in Lancaster. Just out of sight is a large gang of cider-drunken, slightly rough people.
Monday, October 01, 2007
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