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Today has actually been better than expected, even though I have to get up at stupid o'clock in the morning to avoid paying eight pounds in fines to the Social Science Library - yay - but I am not going to write about it. I will just post some out of context quotes and then some pictures of our refrigerator.
(So, we were making our merry way down the High Street)
Me: Is that a parsnip in a telephone box?
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chiasmata: .... yes.
(and equally merrily along Christ Church Meadow)
Me: Is that a gigantic dead fish?
chiasmata: ...yes.
(Claire at dinner time, holding a pepper)
Claire: This is the best pepper ever. Look at the shape of it, look at the stalk! This is the epitome of pepper! All other peppers are derived from this!
Me: Why do we keep finding Platonic ideals in our kitchen?
Maria: You guys? Are very weird. Would anyone like some cucumber jam?
(after depressing evening not spent at the House of Joy avecjacinthsong et all, but in the bloody library reading about bloody socialism for bloody essay crisis, I am trudging down St Aldate's with my intrepid flatmates)
G&D's Guy: Can I help you?
Me: (holding up a half-eaten cookie monster, with two scoops of ice-cream between two cookies): Yeah, er, my incompetent friend over there...
Ben: Hi!
Me: ...would like to know if we could get this wrapped up.
G&D's Guy: Er. Okay.
(five minutes later, he is holding big plate of gloop)
Big Plate Of Gloop: Gloop.
G&D's Guy: Um, it collapsed.
(pause)
Me: You thought I said warm it up, didn't you?
And, because I am just that grown up, I spent many hours last night on the floor of the kitchen with Maria writing poetry on the fridge:
( enormous sausage size )
I am baffled by how much sense some of this makes. I do wish magnetic poetry was recognised artistic medium.
And finally, soon after we got back from G&D's:
Claire: I was out by Christ Church Meadow today, and I saw the weirdest thing...
Me: It was a dead fish, wasn't it?
Claire: ...yeah.
To bed, because this entry has probably been more self-consciously idiotic than usual, but I do feel I have to write this stuff down because it does persist in continuing to happen to me.
(So, we were making our merry way down the High Street)
Me: Is that a parsnip in a telephone box?
chiasmata: .... yes.(and equally merrily along Christ Church Meadow)
Me: Is that a gigantic dead fish?
chiasmata: ...yes.(Claire at dinner time, holding a pepper)
Claire: This is the best pepper ever. Look at the shape of it, look at the stalk! This is the epitome of pepper! All other peppers are derived from this!
Me: Why do we keep finding Platonic ideals in our kitchen?
Maria: You guys? Are very weird. Would anyone like some cucumber jam?
(after depressing evening not spent at the House of Joy avec
jacinthsong et all, but in the bloody library reading about bloody socialism for bloody essay crisis, I am trudging down St Aldate's with my intrepid flatmates)G&D's Guy: Can I help you?
Me: (holding up a half-eaten cookie monster, with two scoops of ice-cream between two cookies): Yeah, er, my incompetent friend over there...
Ben: Hi!
Me: ...would like to know if we could get this wrapped up.
G&D's Guy: Er. Okay.
(five minutes later, he is holding big plate of gloop)
Big Plate Of Gloop: Gloop.
G&D's Guy: Um, it collapsed.
(pause)
Me: You thought I said warm it up, didn't you?
And, because I am just that grown up, I spent many hours last night on the floor of the kitchen with Maria writing poetry on the fridge:
( enormous sausage size )
I am baffled by how much sense some of this makes. I do wish magnetic poetry was recognised artistic medium.
And finally, soon after we got back from G&D's:
Claire: I was out by Christ Church Meadow today, and I saw the weirdest thing...
Me: It was a dead fish, wasn't it?
Claire: ...yeah.
To bed, because this entry has probably been more self-consciously idiotic than usual, but I do feel I have to write this stuff down because it does persist in continuing to happen to me.
