15 October 2008

A Fleeting Fortnight

When not gadding about the city being either Sally Bowles or Lydia Lopokova or, in more insular, maudlin moments, the Lady of Shalott, I am getting ever closer to becoming the ultimate of my heroines. I now have my very own, rather enormous, spider that lives in my room, providing increased atmosphere for my aspirations of being Miss Havisham. It just needs to make a few cobwebs and settle itself in. Alas, I do not have a mouldy old Wedding Cake rotting in the corner, but on occasion there is the odd furred-up coffee cup, or day old mac-in-a-can lying around. Close enough. And I am without a fading lace wedding dress. A party frock from Primark will have to suffice. The bright-eyed, manic glares, passionate cries, and reputation for eccentric insanity are all present and correct though.

In other Mat Fleeting news, Salsa Queen vomited in her handbag which now hangs on the airer as a reminder of the perils of free cocktails from city boys.
We have acquired a cup in the kitchen which has something to do with not using taps when somebody is showering. It has 'shower cup' written on it in black marker. I do not understand the rules of the cup. Apparently it is an important issue. I let it wash over me, just as I let the ice cold water wash over me in the shower when somebody is doing the dishes downstairs...
Old Clem's electricity paranoia has reached new heights. He actually turned the toaster off at the mains when my toast was in it. It gave him quite a shock when the bread popped up.
A new literary genius has been discovered. On the kitchen wall there hangs a hand-written poem. Anybody who visits is asked to guess who wrote the poem. Answers have ranged from Donne, to Eliot, to Plath. It is actually much more contemporary, and makes the guessers feel like idiots. The first line contains the phrase 'depleted uranium breasts', and it was written by none other than the Pie Jesu lover of this household, henceforth known as Ave Maria, when sitting half naked in her armchair after a drunken night out. This is the most creative and intellectually rich time of day, when one should harness the musings of the soul.

Top youtube finds from the past fortnight have included an original episode of The Magic Roundabout entitled 'The Cocktail Fruit Party', the opening of a German cartoon about a little bee which is the most adorable thing despite having phallic references and a theme tune that is at times reminiscent of Tom Jones, and the part of Disney's 'Sword in the Stone' with the Marvellous Mad Madam Mim.

If the whole Miss Havisham thing doesn't work out for me, then Madam Mim is definitely next on the list of people to aspire to.


Ma said...

? a generation gap yawns............but in the meantime, what's the poem?

Mr Rusty said...

The Magic Roundabout is definitely the best thing ever on television. It was Emma Thompson's dad, you know. I bet she got amazing bed-time stories as a child.

Mike said...

If you got up very very early for your shower, say about eight, I bet you would be in no danger of someone washing the dishes, and you could have a nice warm wash and get properly clean.

The shower cup is probably the urban form of conch shell - if someone has it, the hot water is in use.

anna said...

Generation gap, schmeneration gap! You are just too uncultured.
The poem is not mine to share, but I can tell you that it's a bit crackers, references Ophelia and is really rather good.
Also, cold showers after warm lie-ins are far more preferable to early mornings!

I highly reccommend the German version of Die Biene Maya on youtube. Possibly my favourite thing ever.