As it turns out, the death of my pepper mill rather affected me. I dreamed of it, you see. Not of the death scene, though I’m sure I’ll always remember it, but of the replacement scene. I dreamed of going out and buying a new pepper mill. I felt disloyal; I felt like a betrayer, I also felt like I could never find just the right one.

Dreams are great prompters, I rely on them hugely, and so once I’d woken and gone through the normal morning procrastination routine (i.e. being slaughtered at scrabulous, drinking too much tea) I ventured to the shops to find me a new one. The result is a pair of shiny mills, one for salt and one for pepper, that look like chess pieces. They are quite enormous and have lovely little round pregnant bellies full of useful condiment. I would be enamoured but they are kitchenware and so I won’t.

¶ 2:51 PM 2 Comments

The habit of saying ‘oh, point’ when I mean good point, you make an interesting point, or why didn’t I think of that. Both pretentious and annoying.

The fact that I am sometimes [often] so ironic that even I’m not sure what I mean. This is quite painful when people question me and I have to make something up on the spot. Saying what I mean sometimes might help.

That when I have a really bad day and then have a conversation with anyone not a client I say ‘fuck’ like every second word. I don’t even mean to, it just slips out.

¶ 12:44 PM 32 Comments

I’ve decided that my super extra special spend-the-day-in-bed day shall be Saturday. I have bought sheets, laundered sheets, ironed sheets (first and last time), and am busy making a number of little plans for my bed-in. Probably I’m making too much of this. The truth is that I could use and certainly could have used an entire week in bed. I remain utterly exhausted most of the time and still haven’t seen a doctor. I wonder if just being completely fucking knackered is enough to get me an official week in bed. That’d be awesome.

Anyway, the bed-in is an exercise in something other than rest. I am using the time, that is to say I intend to use the time, to contemplate my life and make some plans. Despite my rather firm belief that life is essentially pointless and meaningless I find that I need to add points and meanings to keep myself occupied until such time as I peter out. Also, I want stuff and I gather than the attainment of money is helpful to the attainment of stuff. I have priorities, you know?

This being so, and me making stuff up as I go along, I’ve decided to buy into a couple of concepts. The concepts are Life Listing (which mine is) and the ever present, ever bloggie 101 things in *yawn* 1001 days. These things take thinking about, mostly I’m too tired to think about what I want, when, or how and so just drift. Drifting is getting very dull and now I need to think.

Dear diary, I don’t know why I’m telling you this when I have intention of sharing either with you. I did, however, buy a rather sweet and special book from Pentimento just for the purpose. How I adore Pentimento! I want a whole house that smells like that shop. I want a thousand thousand totally useless odds and ends from that shop. I want a bookcase full of enormous and enormously glossy art and fashion book that smell of Pentimento. I’m going back for more of those sweet and special books; I have Life List plans for them…

¶ 10:27 PM 8 Comments

After many years of faithful service, several moves, and some abuse by arsehole flatmates, my much beloved pepper grinder passed on today. No, passed on seems a bit weak. The poor thing shat itself and died. I tried CPR, I tried holding it together and seeing if superglue would fix it [sadly, no], and I tried to grind one last little half teaspoon of pepper from it but, alas, I was flogging a dead grinder. Curiously, as the thing fell apart in my paws I’d been thinking of what a great little friend it had been and the history of our relationship.

I spent quite a lot of today wandering down memory lane. I had a bit of this and a bit of that to do in King Street and found myself in the vicinity of my old flat, my shoebox. It was coffee that brought me into such proximity, the café on the corner always did do coffee well, and from there I walked a little down the once familiar street and gazed at the old place. It smells the same, even without the Birdman. It looks the same but so different to how I dream it.

I woke up annoyed today after dreaming about M. In part, I suppose, that’s why I chose to visit my old flat. He helped me move in. While I lived there we had some lovely arguments. I didn’t dream about arguing with him though, for once we were friends, well, friendly. On best behaviour, how d’you do, what a pleasure… It wasn’t though. I dreamed that he’d married the ugly dwarf and that they’d had a baby – the family was all in attendance. As was awkwardness. I suppose it always was. He’d be married now, I’m sure of it, even the country must yield some joys in that department. He was always headed that way, and young, so young. I guess it doesn’t do to dwell.

¶ 10:09 PM 0 Comments