Attack of the vapours

Today’s ridiculous drama: I had just driven back to base and had gracefully leapt from the van barely stumbling at all, when Mike appeared from the shadows and said earnestly, ‘I’ve got vapers’ tongue!’

‘What?’ I asked politely, pressing all the wrong buttons on the key to lock the van.

‘It’s when you lose your sense of taste because you’ve been vaping too much. See?’ he went on proudly. ‘People thinking vaping is simple, like smoking, but actually there’s a lot to know.’

Finally I stopped faffing about and started listening. ‘Wait, you’ve lost your sense of taste? Isn’t that a sign of the virus?’

‘No, it’s vapers’ tongue,’ said Mike.

‘And you said you were coughing earlier. You’ve got the plague! Stay away from me infiltrated one!’ I tried to ward him off with the van key, holding my sleeve in front of my mouth.

‘It’s vapers’ tongue!’ said Mike insistently. ‘I’ll get my sense of taste back once I have some chewing gum. It’s all fine. My vape dealer explained it all, it’s vapers’ tongue. Have you got any chewing gum, I need mint!’

I watched him carefully for the rest of the afternoon. No more signs, but I’m ready with a net, a cross and a plastic bag. We’ve already made plans for how we can survive in the gardens if the plague takes over London, but if one of us get it, then we’re screwed.

Fight! Punched the wall! Woke up.

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Today was one of those days when I wonder if I’m out to get me.

First I dreamed about a fight. I’m not sure why I was having it, but definitely it was something heroic and Matrix-like in its cool. There were (probably) spinning kicks and majestic dodges against my huge male foe who was almost certainly evil. And then I punched him, and woke just as my fist hit the wall next to my bed. It hurt, but apparently even majestic fights are quite puny when they leave the dream world, so no damage. A definite sense of Oh you fucking idiot, though.

Then I went to work, and I had to cut back some large Euphorbia. Euphorbia can be nasty because it has poisonous sap that oozes out all over you when you cut it, but I’m lucky and don’t react to it, it’s just sticky and annoying.  What I was more bothered about was the insects living in the bed that didn’t like my invasion of their space. They started biting me, not unreasonably. But I noticed that they bit less the more sap I got on me. Aha! I thought. Nature’s insect repellent. Because of course that is why Euphorbia has toxic sap – to keep away biting insects. So I smeared some on my arms and legs and the insects left me alone. I felt so clever.

Then in the afternoon I got quite dusty and wiped my arm over my face, then carried on chopping – Mahonia this time. My eye started to sting, but I assumed it was the dust and blinked it away. But the pain wouldn’t go and was getting quite nasty. I staggered out of the bed and poured some water on my eye. A friendly builder working nearby asked I was ok. ‘I think so, I just got something in my eye,’ I said. ‘It’s not Euphorbia sap is it? Because that’s really dangerous if you get it in your eyes.’

And I realised that of course it fucking was, so I went back to base and spent the next ten minutes trying to wash the toxic sap out of my damn eye. And for anyone following this blog, yes it was the same eye that landed me in Urgent Care a few weeks ago.

That afternoon I was working in the same bed, trying to not be a self-sabotaging fool, and I looked up and saw this face looking down at me from a nearby statue. Pitying, exasperated, unimpressed, I have a feeling this statue has seen many idiots before.

But more importantly, is she holding a kitten?

statue with a weary unimpressed expression

 

 

 

 

 

And then a cat happened…

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Feeling much more sprightly, I had plans to do stuff today. Do some writing, go to the garden centre and buy pots, but the title should give you a clue as to why I didn’t.

I always say, if you’ve got a cat, then your day is sorted. You don’t even need entertainment.

This cat walked in when I opened the front door and without introduction she had a wander around. She kept acting surprised to see me there. Almost as if I’d invaded her space.

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We got to know each other. She’s a fan of friendly biting, which I’m not. And her tail shakes as if she’s having a fit. Oh and she likes lying on the floor, which I also don’t, but obviously I did for most of today so I could hang out with cat. I tried to tempt her onto the sofa, and she did jump up quite happily and snuggled up against me. Then she got up, moved along a bit and fell over, and then got up and moved further away and fell over, then walked back and bit me. Which was much more active than I was hoping for.

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Cats and Sundays go together well. I hope she comes back tomorrow.

Anyway, TLDR? cat.

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PS: My eye is much better now!

Feebility and foxes

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I like how the cubs started trying to kill each other, while mum fox became super interested in a daisy.

Wallydrag  – feeble person or animal. Runt of the litter

While checking wallydrag, Google suggested:

Sneckdraw  –  a sly crafty person trying to worm his way in.

Housal  – belonging to the house

The last few days I’ve been chased by a migraine. I have intense dreams about dying and then wake up with my back all twisted up. It’s getting a bit shit now. Anyway, so this is a short little blog, with foxes and words. I hope you all staying sane and delightful, keeping the plague away.

A few things to stay safe the government haven’t suggested yet, but may work:

  • A rabbit’s foot nailed to the door (only if the rabbit is already dead, otherwise is cruel).
  • A sprig of rosemary under the doormat (unfortunately my rosemary bush died last year. Coincidence?)
  • Three left shoes arranged in a triangle in front of a mirror (this really works!)
  • A tissue soaked in bleach on your pillow (this may explain the bad dreams)
  • I believe some people are also using rainbows drawn on the pavement to ward off evil, but they must be drawn by a child at midnight and I haven’t been able to procure one yet.

Clickbait alert: This picture is misleading…

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We spent lunch bickering over what to call Robomo. I suggested Lionel, while management liked Rob, but Dan clinched it by coming out with Momo.

In the afternoon, Jessica and I were working in a garden on a small side street. She was crossing the road to get to the van, when a Mercedes whizzed around the corner. She jumped out the way just in time. The driver stopped, wound down the window, and said cheerily,

‘Oh, don’t worry, I wouldn’t run you over, you do such a good job. The garden looks lovely!’

I feel sorry for all the people crossing the road who don’t do such a good job.

The Trouble with Meeting Any Old Tom, Dick or Harry

This story is from one of my favourite bloggers, Colin McQueen and his site, Getting On. It made me chuckle!

via The Trouble with Meeting Any Old Tom, Dick or Harry

Note: this is just the first bit, cos the reblog didn’t provide an excerpt…

The Trouble with Meeting Any Old Tom, Dick or Harry

SpeedDating
There is, apparently, an epidemic of loneliness amongst the middle-aged and elderly. Opportunities to meet other single people in an ‘organic’ manner are vastly reduced as we get older and for some people, many of whom may have been in a stable relationship for many years, the whole business of meeting new people can be a bridge too far. It is with some surprise, therefore, that I learn that Speed Dating, the most synthetic and pressurised mode of social intercourse that humankind has yet devised, has, for an increasing proportion of ageing singletons, become the preferred manner of meeting people and, perhaps, finding a partner. I tried to imagine how this might work…

DING!
Mary: …Are you alright?
Tom: Yes, it’s these chairs. What’s the point of the arm rests? It’s a bugger of a job to get into them without popping the front of your shirt out of your trousers – not ideal when you’re trying to make an impression; especially when you’ve not really had time to change your vest since last Sunday’s gravy incident – also, could put your hip out; twist too far trying to get your knees under these tables…
Mary: Right… well… I see. Yes. Well, I’m told that the best thing to do, because we’re obviously time-limited, is to get the personal details out of the way first, so, I’m Mary, I’m a retired teacher. I like walking on the beach in the early morning. I love music and books – clichéd I know, but true – and I’m allergic to cats. You?
Tom: I’m… ooh, excuse me. I had beans for lunch. Always do that to me, beans, still, better out than in eh?
Mary: Well… I suppose…
Tom: Tom. I spend my time in the pub mainly. Don’t have many friends, that’s why I’m here: thought that I might be able to get a bit of… well, you know, woman of the world and all that. Teacher. Don’t just learn about such things, if you catch my drift, eh…
Mary: Er… well, I don’t really… Oh, there’s the bell.
Tom: Bell?
Mary: Yes, the bell. Time to move on I think.
Tom: I didn’t hear a bell.
Mary: Really. I definitely heard the bell.
Tom: Nobody’s moving.
Mary: I am…

DING!

To read on>>>>

via The Trouble with Meeting Any Old Tom, Dick or Harry

Aspiration and reality

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AI has a simple piece of advice for life here. Something almost all can aim for. But not me, for I am a woubit. See below.

Word of the day: woubit – a small and shabby person, not suited for the royal family, too scruffy and liable to laugh loudly at the wrong time.

Oh! And I’ve got a new laptop, finally. I’m only half using it so far and I’ve already had to write and ask the seller why it’s not the same as the description, buuuuut otherwise it looks good. It doesn’t keep coming to a wheezy stop where it does nothing but stare like this one (currently held together by three bulldog clips, an elastic band and some electrical tape) does. Anyway, I’ll leave you with some even wiser words from The Curious Dog…

“Sticks and stones can break my bones and I have my Swiss Army Knife if they hit me and if I kill them it will be self defense and I won’t go to prison.”

― Mark Haddon, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time