All right, all right, I have almost let this blog die in the last four months or so (and was barely keeping it alive for some time before that). I’ve been thinking about what it’s for, and haven’t come to any world-shattering conclusions except that I would like it to remain a rag-bag of depression and its temporary remission, strange experiences I have had and funny things I have seen and heard. There may be a new, bigger, all singing and dancing blog emerging some time next year but first Christmas has to happen, and it won’t unless I make it (although The Grouch, bless him, does most of the Christmas cooking which lifts a great burden off my often tense shoulders).
In the meantime, I just have to share with you two recent Freecycle offers I encountered:
First, ‘OFFERED: Quarter size violin in case’. In case of what, I wonder? The sudden arrival of a midget violinist?
And second, and to quote Teresa May I am really not making this up: ‘OFFER: Two colourful poufs’. I could certainly do with those to brighten up my house! Can they come for Christmas and entertain my guests?
1. A man standing in his front garden putting in eye drops.
2. Two chuggers on the pavement competing at juggling their folded umbrellas.
3. A large fat dog fast asleep in the window display of a small boutique.
And today, I read this on Freecycle: ‘I am giving away lots of Girls, jeans trousers, Jumpsuits,Tops and some shoes as well, they still have lots of life in them.’ Glad to hear the girls still have lots of life in them. Although I am a little concerned that they are being given away.
It just goes to show how important a correctly placed comma can be.
Recently I have advertised several items on Freecycle (subsequent to serious clearing out of son’s room, at son’s initiative). One (or rather two) of these items were two brightly coloured plastic toy storage systems. One email response was from a lady who said she wanted these storage items because: ‘I have bits of my grandchildren everywhere’. I didn’t give them to her – she sounded altogether too sinister. I gave them to the lady with boy triplets.
After a very long absence, one of my two local Freecycle groups has started sending me emails again (the other one seems to have spontaneously unsubscribed me). It is thus that I learn this:
‘We are looking for a medium size closet or drawer for our kids.’
I don’t know about you, but I have never attempted to keep my kid in a closet or drawer. Should I be reporting these people?
More unrefusable offers from Freecycle:
Wanted: Traditional Wood Hat Stand. Presumably for the use of those who wear traditional wood hats.
Offered: Exercise bile. If exercise makes them that bitter I think they are right to give it up.
And finally, Offered: Friends. I have some already, thank you.
To change the subject, last weekend I went on retreat to my favourite retreat house (the one where there is nothing organized, you can just relax). I had plenty of time sitting in the sun in the garden with a good book, but my favourite moment was when what I thought was lemon meringue pie, which is a food abomination (how can you contaminate meringue, the food of the gods, with lemon curd, the food of Satan?), turned out to be Queen of Puddings, which is almost the best pudding ever barring syllabub and Eton Mess. Shallow, moi? But really, the food is one of the very best things about this particular retreat house.
I have returned with my youth renewed like The Eagles (didn’t they have a reunion tour recently?), but no lighter.
I have been alarmed and amused to see the following on Freecycle:
‘I am in desperate need of a outside rabbit hutch, I believed I brought
two female rabbits but one is actually a boy. So I really need to split them up a quickly as possible.’
Indeed she does. Otherwise they will be breeding like… well, like rabbits.
On a completely different tack (or not?) I have just drafted my first promising poem in three and a half years (in fact since I won the Barnet Open Poetry Competition, which seems to have completely destroyed my poetic ability for an extended period). I’m quite excited by this, as I have never had such a long poem-less period before. I was beginning to think I needed to fall in unrequited love again to inspire poetry. Which sort of brings us back to the rabbits…
I have been somewhat bemused to read on Freecycle the following announcement:
‘Wanted unwanted items’.
Surely if they are unwanted they can’t be wanted, but if they are wanted they can’t be unwanted? My head hurts…
Latest from my local Freecycle: ‘WANTED: Rubber cap for tubular leg’. Is it just me or does that sound disconcertingly surgical? (it turns out it was something to do with a bike rack on a car…).
Getting back to loftier matters, eleven of us sang our guts out at Turnpike Lane* underground last night in aid of Christian Aid. In our years of experience of this annual event, we have discovered that it takes precisely one and a half hours to sing one’s way through the entire Bethlehem carol sheet (with a short break for mulled wine, homebaked mince pies and Pfeffernüsse, provided by yours truly).
I then went to Covent Garden to meet a Shipmate and we had a good girly chat about flooded basements, plumbers etc. As if I didn’t get enough about plumbing in my day job as a plumber’s spouse…
Talking of which, things are looking good for said plumber to bag a job at a Further Education College, teaching mechanical engineering. This would be a considerable change in our daily lives but he has really had enough of crawling under sinks now. Especially since he hit a magical birthday this year (half-century, in case you’re interested).
*or, in the terms of the anagrammatical Tube map (see Wibsite home page for sample), ‘Internal Puke’.
‘WANTED; HAMSTER BITS’. Mmmm… tasty.