the cat's revenge, and other stories
The walk to work has lengthened somewhat. It continues to do so. The other day, on the way home, a completely new road appeared between Mount Crescent and South Drive. I swear it wasn't there before.
It isn't the only mysterious thing that has happened. The other day we returned home to find the door to the loft - which previously we had tried and failed to open - gaping wide. It was as though some invisible force had burst it open - like the wind, for example. Or, more likely, a ghost. The previous tenants (South Africans) had a cat, which they offered to us, and which we refused, leaving us faintly troubled by the thought of what might have happened to it (its food dish still waits, empty and forlorn, outside). They may well have sacrificed it to the gods represented by the ceramic dog's heads on the greenhouse; if so, perhaps its spirit still lurks... In the form of fleas, at the very least.
Work goes on: it is hard to believe that it will end soon and resume again in a different form, as in a reincarnation. People have actually suggested that I am doing something 'brave', something 'admirable'. If I'd ever thought that I was doing something admirable, I'd definitely have thought twice about it.
Still, there are definite signs at Waterstones that the end is nigh. More Pets With Tourettes has come in. Regular readers will recall how I championed the original, defending it as a blazingly original work of modern fiction. Sadly, the sequel is a travesty. A cockerel which says 'Big cock'; a cow that says 'Mootherfucker.' You see? Puns, layers - they're trying too hard. It's too sophisticated. They should never have got Salman Rushdie involved.
The other day a little child came in with over ten pounds in small change, which he'd saved up to pay for a book and a down payment on the next J. K. Rowling thing. It's the kind of situation that makes people go: ahhh. He's saved all his little coins up. Ahhhh. Of course it's annoying in reality. I had to laboriously count out pound after pound in one and two pence pieces. The till was swimming in change. All very cute, kid, but for Christ's sake you're nine and you haven't got an Amex card! The world is leaving you behind.
It isn't the only mysterious thing that has happened. The other day we returned home to find the door to the loft - which previously we had tried and failed to open - gaping wide. It was as though some invisible force had burst it open - like the wind, for example. Or, more likely, a ghost. The previous tenants (South Africans) had a cat, which they offered to us, and which we refused, leaving us faintly troubled by the thought of what might have happened to it (its food dish still waits, empty and forlorn, outside). They may well have sacrificed it to the gods represented by the ceramic dog's heads on the greenhouse; if so, perhaps its spirit still lurks... In the form of fleas, at the very least.
Work goes on: it is hard to believe that it will end soon and resume again in a different form, as in a reincarnation. People have actually suggested that I am doing something 'brave', something 'admirable'. If I'd ever thought that I was doing something admirable, I'd definitely have thought twice about it.
Still, there are definite signs at Waterstones that the end is nigh. More Pets With Tourettes has come in. Regular readers will recall how I championed the original, defending it as a blazingly original work of modern fiction. Sadly, the sequel is a travesty. A cockerel which says 'Big cock'; a cow that says 'Mootherfucker.' You see? Puns, layers - they're trying too hard. It's too sophisticated. They should never have got Salman Rushdie involved.
The other day a little child came in with over ten pounds in small change, which he'd saved up to pay for a book and a down payment on the next J. K. Rowling thing. It's the kind of situation that makes people go: ahhh. He's saved all his little coins up. Ahhhh. Of course it's annoying in reality. I had to laboriously count out pound after pound in one and two pence pieces. The till was swimming in change. All very cute, kid, but for Christ's sake you're nine and you haven't got an Amex card! The world is leaving you behind.
posted by martin at 10:39 AM
1 Comments:
1) pets with tourettes. all you need is a badger saying "slag". We've got one in the garden already.
2) Child with coins. As everyone knows, more than 20 coins can be legally refused as not legal tender. Tell the little shit to fuck off and change up at the Sainsburys Change Machines next time.
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