Chronologically disadvantaged
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I sometimes suspect that Lucy may have a tendency towards manic depression ("You reckon?" roar the assembled masses). Bone-rattling hyperactivity is followed by periods of deep gloom, which then burn away like clouds in a summer sky and suddenly she's bouncing on the bed again. It's all I can do to keep up. She's been residing in the Slough of Despond for a couple of days now. I of course refer to the Slough from 'Pilgrim's Progress', rather than the Slough that lies off junction 15 on the M25. Although the two do share striking similarities, it has to be said. The reason for her melancholy? She's decided she doesn't like her boobs. Yes, Lucy thinks her breasts, those ripely rounded melons, those gravity-defying miracles of nature, are "too big". Lucy: I mean, look at them (she grabs a boob in each hand and jiggles them in my face). Me: Um, it's quite hard not to. Lucy: But what are they for? Me: Err... milk? Which was the wrong answer, as it turned out. Now I happen to think that Lucy's boobies categorically prove the theory of intelligent design. Yes, this does require one to believe in a God who is not dissimilar to Benny Hill, but I'm pretty sure the Catholic Church can cope with that - for doth it not say in the Bible, "and lo, then Mary's top did fall off, and also Martha's. And Jesus did chase them all over Gesthemane to the sound of frantic comedy music until he did fall into a pond"? Well, no, it doth not. But it would certainly have livened up Sunday service if it had . Anyway, I digress. I think Lucy has marvellous mammaries. But just try telling her that over the past few days. There has even been talk about getting a breast reduction, at which point I began to panic slightly. So the fact that she is currently clattering about the shop, banging two halves of a coconut together and pretending to be a horse, is a profound relief to me. I have already mentioned in previous posts that my beloved is not really one for sleeping. For her, lie-ins are things that happen to other people. I have grown quite adept at slumbering through whatever it is she gets up to in the wee hours. For example, I was sleeping like a baby at 4 o'clock this morning when Lucy decided she was going to make coconut ice. And I admit, it was nice to wake up to a plateful of tooth-achingly sweet comestibles. Less enjoyable is the noise she's currently making with the two halves of the coconut. Lucy is now claiming that her uncle used to be a foley artist. Lucy: He taught me everything he knows about making sounds. Check it out. A horse walking. Clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop. Lucy: The trot. Clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop. Lucy: The canter. Clippety-clop, clippety-clop, clippety-clop, clippety-clop. Lucy: And the gallop. Clippetyclopclippetyclopclippetyclopclippetyclop. And so on. The shop currently sounds like the inside of Princess Anne's head. It is only because I am so glad to see Lucy happy again that I am refraining from asking her to make the noise of a horse being shot through the head a la "Bolt" by Dick Francis (what do you mean, you've never read it?). The Bottle Shop recommendation for today: Albarino Martin Codax 2004 (Spain). A delicate-yet-strong, perky and graceful white - just like a Lipizzaner Stallion only without the pervading air of creepiness. Clip-bloody-clop. £8.49
Horseplay
Breakfast, today.
31.8.05 11:26
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(31.8.05 14:07) When, oh when, are you lot going to have your lives immortalised as a sitcom? Go on - you know it makes sense. |
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(31.8.05 14:09) It's a thought. Who would they get to play me, though? I mean, the doppelganger is out, now he's gone and got himself a plum job playing the Doctor. |
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(31.8.05 14:12) Well, someone devastatingly handsome and pretty tall, wearing an Oxfam suit, of course .... At least, I think that's what you said earlier. |
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(31.8.05 15:00) "Devastatingly handsome"? Goodness me, poglet, that sort of flattery will get you everywhere. |
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(31.8.05 15:13) I'm fairly sure I was quoting someone or other. Honest. *coughs* |
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(1.9.05 11:44) *Wanders in* Howdy Pog, are you here too? Brilliant  mmmm and a gracious hello to you Mr Bland, I've been having a rumage through your marvellous blog, call it 'catching up'. I must admit though I'm concerned, no mention of Dr Livingstone lately... *gulp*ah well, while I'm here can I have two bottles of Lambrusco please... |
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Tman / Website (1.9.05 23:45) I've been saying the Bottle Shop should be a show since day freaking one of reading your stuff late. Personal favorite episode will be the Valentines day episode, complete with flashbacks and extreme post-bungee vomiting. |
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(5.9.05 09:50) once again - hilarious but surely the 'acting as a horse' requirest a little prancing around, which in turn...means bouncing breast...let her carry on for a little while longer 
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Snag (6.9.05 12:53) Well you know what this means: you're just going to have to pay her tits a lot of attention over the next few days. Yunno, just to make her feel good about them like. It's altruistic. *ahem* |
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(22.9.05 16:48) I haven't had coconut ice in years. |
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(2.11.05 23:31) ---- |