four small things.

Wednesday, June 22

Bonjour! The past few weeks I have been: working more hours in the cafe (which has been quite interesting – lots of funny customers, a saxophonist, and delicious mistake ‘hot chocolate brownie’ ice-cream sundaes), going to two conferences, finding out that I passed 2nd year university (with ‘distinction’ – hooray!) and spending rather too much time pottering about the house doing nothing (which I must stop doing). I will write a proper post later. For now though, here are a few things that I’ve noticed...
(one). A car with eye-lashes...
(two). The fact that it’s June and it already looks like autumn. Brown, shrivelled, dead leaves. Something's wrong with the trees...

(three). Even though I’m not an ‘animal person’ ...when asked to look after pets, I inevitably end up falling a little bit in love with them and proceed to embarrass myself when they leave by bursting into tears. This has now happened twice: once when looking after Shadow the Dog for 3 months and just there when looking after Tasha the Cat for 10 days while my Grandparents were on holiday. (Incidentally... as I seem to be writing an awful lot about moustaches on this blog, I might as well continue and tell you that Tasha was so named because she has a white moustache. They’ve had her for 16 years, and I only just found this out.)

(four). And my sister found this music last night which is lovely.

Thinking of moustaches...

Thursday, June 9

I saw a moustachioed man at the train station on Tuesday. He looked rather like a walrus. He was fat, with braces to keep his trousers up. And it was a large moustache - a big, looping white one that covered half his face... but in such a way that it wasn’t a beard. Quite clever, really.

It must be very itchy to have so much hair on your face, though. And his wife must find him tickly to kiss. If he has a wife, that is. (One shouldn’t assume.) Maybe he can’t find one because of the hair-up-the-nose issue. Or maybe he chose to have the moustache instead of the wife. He might of. I can imagine it was an active decision that he made after his pie-loving sweetheart – Marion Appleberry – told him she would ‘only ever marry a clean-shaven man’.

He might have stood in front of the mirror the day after she said it – face covered in shaving foam, hand clutching his razor – wondering: did he love her enough?

‘Can I sacrifice this hairy beauty to marry Marion? Marion – my soul mate, my one true love, the apple(berry) of my eye? Will I shave it all off to be with her – that fine figure of a women who shares my passion for marmite on scones, and finds my interest in small-rodent taxidermy endearing? Will I? Will I?’
A dilemma to be sure.
Marion or moustache? Marion or moustache? Marion or ---’

He threw the razor to the floor. He splashed his cheeks with water.
Damn her facial-hair preferences!’ He (maybe) cried. ‘The moustache will always be first in my heart!’
Now he spends his days drifting around train stations, a living monument of how staying true to yourself, no matter what the cost, is possible!
(He’ll never admit it, but sometimes, when he is picking scone crumbs out his whiskers, he does feel a little lonely.)
Pictures from: marc johns (again).

n. an unshaved growth of hair on the upper lip

Thursday, June 9

I was brushing my teeth this morning when I noticed that...

...the bathroom mirror looks like it is framed with moustaches. Brilliant!

Deliciousness in 11 easy steps

Thursday, June 2

1 Cadbury’s chocolate Whispa bar (or a Galaxy, or any other delicious chocolate bar)
Preparation time:
About an hour
  1. Take the Wispa. 
  2. Unwrap, and break a little bit off the end of it and eat.
  3. Leave the rest on the coffee table while the sun is high in the sky and forget about it.
  4. Spend an hour doing any of the following: a.) read a book, b.) write a poem, c.) have a nap, d.) go for a walk, e.) write panic-y emails to university admin staff about complications with the children’s literature class that you’ve been desperate to take since you were about fifteen...
  5. Remember about the Wispa.
  6. Sneakily glance around to make sure no one is looking (because you don't plan on sharing, but don't want anyone to think that you're greedy...even though you've already had quite a big lunch and have eaten two biscuits)
  7. Try and pick the Wispa up but realise that it has melted in the sun.
  8. Find a spoon.
  9. Eat and enjoy and smack your lips (in a dark corner so no one notices).
  10. Destroy all evidence!!
  11. Write a blog about it, therefore nullifying step ten.
Picture from: here.
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