Hey la day la the mice are back

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No pressure.

The mice are back, so Mike spent lunchbreak with his feet up on the bench shouting. But look at the little fella, isn’t he just adorbs! The other two were quite cute too, although Mike’s sinister claim that they’ll ‘Get bigger, they start out all small, but they’ll get bigger,’ may lead to issues over space.

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Lurking mouse
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Bold mouse

 

Brennan is alive and, well…

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Just throwing this piece of Artificial Inspiration out there, because it may very well be right.

So I saw Brennan! He’s alive! He wasn’t even walking with his head down!

(For anyone passing by who doesn’t know, Brennan is a man who walks slowly up and down my street with his head hanging so low it’s as if his neck is elastic.)

He was still walking slowly, but head up. I was probably staring trying to work out if it was him or not (I’ve never properly seen his face) and then I realised it was. And he was now looking at me, so I smiled shyly.

And he leered in response. And I don’t mean a nervous smile gone wrong, or a slight sneer, I mean a full-throttle, Bela-Lugosi-vampire, lip-twisting leer. I don’t think I’ve even see that face live on a human before. It reminded me of this Uno Morales cartoon (if you don’t know the rest of the cartoon, you don’t want to). Except that Brennan’s eyes were more hollowed out, looked almost bruised.

If I assume that Brennan hasn’t been possessed by demons, then he is a deeply troubled man, at least when he’s looking at me. Think I need to steer clear of him and accept that I’m terrible at making friends. I may be cursed.

Word of the day: weirdward – bordering upon the supernatural

Wise words for a sorry world

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Well here’s some inspiration I actually agree with!

Then today the scaffolding was down and the painters had gone. I was wondering yesterday how they would paint underneath where the scaffolding was against the wall/step. The answer is: they wouldn’t, they’d leave it unpainted. UWnpainted squares all over the walls and ground.

 

 

At least there’s no way the landlady can pin this on us.

A wise aspiration for us ALL

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Quite a few politicians at the moment seem to be making the leap from self-interested-and-incompetent to fucking-despotic. So AI has come up with a great ambition to aim for.

Word of the day: Barbarocracy – government by barbarians

I’ve been a bit confused about how our painters have been painting the house. They’ve got scaffolding up which is attached to the wall, covering small sections of it. It also rests on the steps that they’re painting a nice cheery red. But how can they paint under/behind the scaffolding? Will they do those bits after?

No sign of Brennan, the sad walking man. It’s been days now.

The unexpected dangers of painting

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Artificial Inspiration gave me nice poster today! I feel all validated.

A couple of friendly painters put up scaffolding outside my house yesterday. It’s odd, because my house isn’t big, I’m sure a ladder would have been fine, but maybe it’s safer this way. I offered tea, but they didn’t want it.

Then today they were burning off the old paint from the side of the house with a blow torch. I’ve not heard of this method before, is it normal? Anyway, I’d been in about an hour when the doorbell rang. One of the friendly painters was at the door with a sheepish grin hiding behind his curly beard.

‘Hello, I’m sorry to bother you, but I just need to have a look at your window from the inside. You see, I think it’s on fire.’ He didn’t seem in a huge rush, so we trundled up to my flat chatting about the patchy weather.

He was right, it was on fire. Wisps of smoke were wafting across the lounge. Apparently a bit of fluff inside the window had caught alight. I got him a glass of water to put it out. He poured the water over the sill, thanked me politely and went back outside to pick up his blow torch. He still didn’t want a cup of tea.

Word of the day (one of the finest ever): ucalegon – neighbour whose house is on fire.

I’ve never been able to use this word in real life, but today I’m proud to have given my neighbour the opportunity.

 

Lucky lucky renter

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The landlady turned up before I left for work to let us know that someone would be painting the house next week. Most landladies would have sent an email, but she had some blankets she wanted to store somewhere and decided that our kitchen cupboards were a good place to do that. I found her when I went to make some toast, she was clearing plates out of the cupboard to make room for the blankets. It was too early to argue and I am a coward.

‘It must be nice to rent and not have all these responsibilities. To get the whole house painted without any effort. I’d love to just go off to work without a care,’ she said, and I huffed around the kitchen trying to make toast with her faffing about in front of the toaster. Incidentally, she doesn’t have to go off to work at all, because she makes so much money in rent. Once she’d gone I tried to fit the plates in another cupboard.

“It could be that the purpose of your life is only to serve as a warning to others.” Ashleigh Brilliant.

Word of the day: Foolocracy – government by fools

 

Be a boy!

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Thought I’d try with the artificial inspiration again, and I got one for all the lovely guys out there, I hope this wisdom can make your day.

Unfortunately the one I got a while ago for women isn’t quite so chirpy.

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Still no sign of Brennan.

“I know I’ve made some very poor decisions recently, but I can give you my complete assurance that my work will be back to normal. I’ve still got the greatest enthusiasm and confidence in the mission. And I want to help you.”

 

Mini paradise

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Sub Tropical land. I need a short flower interlude from inspirational posters. So I decided to share with you some photos from our sub-tropical border, cos it’s beautiful.

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I also thought I should let you know the bloke I see every day, who walks slowly up and down with his head hanging, I haven’t seen him since I wrote about him. I’ve decided for simplicity to call him Brennan, since that name means sorrow and he looks like the most desolate man I’ve seen. I’ll let you know when he comes back. I last saw him on his knees facing a house at seven in the morning so I’m a bit worried.

Word of the day: nullibicity – state of being nowhere

Nature, the ultimate accessory

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I don’t even need to wait for Monday to do this, this is ongoing.

I was weeding the garden today – hard as a bone – when I heard someone say ‘excuse me?’ Often I’ll have a chat with the neighbours whose garden is next to mine, but the other side has a gap, a big fence and then flats. Although I see the various occupants sometimes, we’ve never talked. Anyway, a head was poking over the top of this big fence. I turned around and the guy chuckled smugly at my sweaty self, which I didn’t like.

‘Hello,’ he said, still smug, ‘do you pick your apples?’

Now our apple tree has many bright red apples on it, but most can’t be reached and those that can aren’t that nice and often have maggots. So we pick what we need and let the rest fall. I figure they serve as food for the birds and insects, and since they’re more endangered than me, I feel good about it. Occasionally visitors get uppity about it, ‘Don’t let them just fall! Why don’t you bake a pie?’ they say. But when I suggest they go collect some, they last about three minutes before giving up, complaining about inaccessibility and maggots.

‘Sometimes,’ I say.

‘Do you eat them yourself then?’ he asked, and I could hear the lecture about wasted apples desperate to get out of him. I’m aware I sound unreasonable, but he was oozing smug.

‘Sometimes,’ I said, ‘but they have a lot of maggots.’

‘Ah. Perhaps I could try some?’

‘Ok,’ I said, found a maggotless one, picked it and climbed the fence to hand it over.

‘Thanks!’ he said, with a cheeky grin. ‘I thought I should ask before just taking one.’

‘How would you take one?’ I asked looking at the high fence and the metre gap and my fence, he wouldn’t be able to reach.

‘Well, I’d climb over the fences!’ he said proudly.

‘Yeah, I’d rather you didn’t break into my garden,’ I replied, trying to not get too indignant.

‘Hmm, yes, I thought I should ask, so you didn’t turn round and see me right behind you!’ he said chirpily, as if he was doing me a favour and wasn’t acting creepy. ‘It’s good to eat things from the garden, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘More natural.’ Again, smugness abounded. Because, yes obviously it is, so saying it with a patronising tilt of the head isn’t necessary. I was making assumptions, but he struck me like the kind who’s never grown anything, but buys all his fruit and veg at the farmer’s market and thinks that makes him an expert on nature. The kind who believes because he’s watched Bear Grylls he’s a survivalist. In gardening I’ve met a few of these types, they like to stand about lecturing me while I’m working. A Nature Poseur.

Anyway, I went inside and told Hamoudi about it.

‘Oh,’ he said, ‘is he the one with the sword?’

‘Er what?’ I said.

‘The white guy who poses in the garden with the sword? He stands on his own doing stances.’ Hamoudi did a couple of sample man-with-sword poses.

‘I’ll bet that’s him!’ I said. Hamoudi showed me the garden he poses in, and since there aren’t many white guys in the neighbourhood, I’m thinking that yes! He’s the guy that poses with the fucking sword. Like I said, a survivalist!