retrospective four

The other night we might have gone to The Pink Toothbrush, Dave and I, with Chad, but we’d only recently returned from Ikea with shelves, a kitchen table, chairs and a dishwashing brush, and were too apathetic to go. So this is what maturity’s like, I thought to myself. We watched The Mummy Returns, which is spoiled by an obnoxious child actor who can’t act, and Highlander: Endgame (aka: Highlander: Endgame: Why?) which is spoiled by everybody who made it. Not that there was much there to spoil.

Tuesday night we didn’t go out because it was pancake day, so we had pancakes, in the kitchen. Pancakes and wine. Just like in the Cliff Richard song. Few people realise that, along with Mistletoe And Wine, Cliff did a song to mark every feast in the Christian calendar - Easter Eggs And Wine, Ascension Day And Wine. There are those who maintain that, for him, it was really all about the wine. That he is not so much a committed Christian as a soon-to-be-committed alcoholic.

Excuse me, I’m free-associating.

Maybe my mind has been affected by Milkdrop, a program that sets all kinds of randomly generated pretty patterns to music, and which our TV now plays. The patterns are disturbingly hypnotic, almost alive, suggesting that Milkdrop is actually a cover for alien invasion and that creatures are infiltrating our minds as we watch. They are telling us to go to their earthly headquarters, Ikea, and buy more shelves.