I feel a bit better. I’m still coughing up some amazingly weird coloured blobs of hochle*. My throat is rank. I sound like Tom Waits…….
*Greener, phlegm, spit, lung boogers, etc.
I was listening to some tunes this morning, rummaging through all the usual trying to find something to fit the mood- eventually settling down to let the new Douglas Firs record work it’s slow burning arcane magic…. which was just perfect for a Sunday morning.
Obviously “Sunday Morning” by the Velvet Underground would be the clichéd choice, but that’s just a phase folk go through, you pretend to actually like The Velvets, Joy Division and Captain Beefheart-and even Radiohead if you are totally clueless, but you dont really like them, it’s a pose. They are over rated and a bit shit. I sometimes put Joy Division on, then I end up scrolling through the i-pod till I get to GVSB’s rendition of “she’s Lost Control”….game over
I still like Beefheart though….Trout Mask Replica and all that is just a fucking great record…..a very odd record…but great.
I’m feeling better. I might have mentioned that. Saturday was a struggle. The Lurgy was on my back like a phantom of a hit and run victim locked in purgatory……….like that film, I forget the name of it…erm…
The music was a good start to the day. We had no solid plans. Just the usual Sunday stuff.
The weather was good, right sunny and bracing. Lindsey mentioned we could take the monster out for a walk as I supped my morning Laudinum…..(it takes the edge off everything)…………..
As we got going my mind turned to our forthcoming holiday in Australia. We’re heading out for three weeks. The wife’s sister is over there working, and it’s bound to be great fun. A couple of things are bothering me about the trip- firstly the plane journey, it’s a long haul and I recently discovered that even well groomed gentlemen of my calibre are not allowed to smoke on planes. Having only made a short trip or two via airy-plane before I assumed the non-smoking thing was a U.K and Europe fetish. Not so.
This will be an issue. I’m not prepared to do without my smokes. I’m already peering furiously at maps, plans and schematics on the internet to work out where the smoking zones are at all the airports we are visiting. At the French airport they had these smoking boxes, like big self contained perspex and Nicotine air-locks….I’m hoping this is the same in London and Singapore.
Then, there is the patch option….but that just seems weak. I might buckle though, and swan up and down the plane in my dressing gown with one of those fucking Nicorette Inhalator’s in one hand and a £8 beer in the other.
Dressing gown, that’s right…I’m going to travel comfy….Jogging bottoms, loose fitting SLINT t-shirt and no underwear….keep it loose….maybe a sports bra….
Issue number two is the language barrier. I learned very quickly in France that not speaking the language was a major problem. I couldn’t get the silly frog twat’s to understand what rolling tobacco was, I mean we saved them from the Nazi’s…..Cheese eating surrender monkeys….
So Oz is going to be different. I’m going in prepared, pre-loaded with the correct linguistic knowledge. I’m going to speak the lingo like a fucking native. Well not a native, them “Abo” chaps are a bit fucked up- I’m nae going to get involved with them at all. I’ve seen Picnic at Hanging rock….I know what goes on there…
By ready I mean I’ve been working on the Oz language. For months….I have this big chunk of time walking to and back from work. I’ve been hitting hard the audio book guide to speaking Australian- it’s read by the guy that plays Alf Fisher in Home and Away, it’s full of handy stuff- I’ve also been listening to INXS and been studying the Sally from Home and Away sex tape on the internet. Purely for research….
So I’m getting pretty fluent:
“Flaming galah, do you cunts sell Amber Leaf?”
“Strewth…has anybody seen my jacket?”
“Fair dinkum mate, Eric Banna was pretty good in the Star Trek movie, but I like the cut of Mel Gibson’s anti-Semitic tirades…”
“no tennents lager? you fucking drongo! you bunch of convicts!”
etc…..I’ll hopefully get more work done on this on the plane. I’ve downloaded loads more audio guides.
We took the bairn up to the walled Victorian garden for a walk. He wandered about, looking a bit bored. He brightened up when he saw the road.
He’s mad on cars, I thought he was going to have a fit. Legs going, pointing like mad, eyes boggling….CARS!
Mum and Dad turned up later.
Dad brought the hedge trimmer. Bushes were trimmed. We all got stuck in. I tried to “prune” a tree. It’s pretty much dead now. I like my tree’s minimalist, clean lines- leaves and twigs can fuck right off.