The essence of the mess

By SunkeneyedGirl

I wandered lonely as a cloud...only I didn't. I belted about like an idiot cat with a fire under its tail, had a horrible, stressful afternoon and have since made matters worse by feeding myself a half ton of small chocolate eggs. Bah! More tea, Vicar?

Anyhow, have some Q's from Mez and some A's from me... Oh and some Andrew Bird, because I think he is just perfect for settling down the simmering rages and turning them into quiet melancholy or even smiles, which are better...


1) A Rice Krispie is a non-goth Coco Pop. Discuss.
It's like this. The Coco Pop is superior in all its chocolatey goodness, but it is a bit of a fraud in the Goth stakes. Two seconds in the milk and all the dark makeup comes off to reveal...the humble - and now soggy - Rice Krispie. I like the chocolatey milk (or I used to), but I can't be doing with the soggy floaty things that look like some kind of nasty skin excrescence, so I'd either have to eat them in under thirty seconds or...eat them in under thirty seconds. Let's not even go there with the non-goth Coco Pop, as there is no payoff or advantage whatsoever to eating it unless it's covered in melted chocolate and left to set, or not even left to set. That's not proper Goth, is it? More like proper playschool.

2) What's all this pasty lark abaht innit? Oooh topical!
Ach, I know little or nothing of politics, politicians, etc. I currently allow myself the Guardian's culture pages and its Life and Style. Yes, I am a flake.
In the interests of blippage, I have tried googling, but all the top hits seem to be in the Daily Heil, which I can't look at because I have Tea and Kittens installed. It's lovely; if there is a link to the Heil or The Express, then it blocks it and shows you cute kittie pics instead.
I have thus far gleaned that it is something to do with paying VAT (purchase tax for those of you not in the know) on take-away food and Our Mate Dave (Cameron) telling people to stock up on pasties instead of petrol because there won't be a tanker strike as a reaction to high prices (they should come here, then!!). Might it be a good idea to start selling pasties at garages so people can stock up on both or at least have something to eat while they queue up to fill their petrol tanks?

3) What was the last thing you wrote by hand in the traditional fashion and did you use a pen or a pencil?
I can't write by hand any more! I signed a cheque for fuel. With a pen. First of all, I couldn't find a pen, because The Child pilfers them all and uses them to draw endless pictures of animals, which she then scatters round the house, much to my distress. Then I couldn't remember how to write the cheque, so I just filled in the amount, signed it and handed it over. The only legible thing I write these days is my signature, which isn't anything other than a squiggle, but at least I can get that right. I am terrible for doodling and have those big desk pads that are full of "notes to self" which I absolutely cannot decipher, but I keep writing them.

4) Why do Italian men seem to think that salmon coloured trousers are acceptable?
Do they? Where I live, the manly uniform consists of:
Peaked cap, US military style and colour, or woollen version with earflaps in the winter.
Vest or baggy T-shirt that doesn't quite cover the expanded and still growing girth. This is worn under a big army hunting jacket in the winter.
Camouflage trousers or jeans/shorts depending on season.
Big boots, usually covered in mud.
Huge tractor, usually attached to backside.

5) Do you like observatories?
Ohhhhhh, yes. So much. What can be better than watching stars? There is an observatory not too far from here that I have been meaning to drag The Child to since forever. It is called Villa del Balì... Nothing to do with the SE Asian island holiday destination, the stress here is on the second syllable. There is a science museum and an observatory but I still have two years to go before she can come with me to look at stars, though, as they don't let the under-10s on the guided tour.

Now for the lovely, lovely Mr Bird, times three, plus my apologies for failing dismally with Franks and Toms...(it's an Andrew-shaped blip in the theme, but I quite like the occasional Andrew).
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