HELLO OUT THERE!
I'm used to making my opinions public. I've had two of my diaries published as books and I do write a v famous advice column for my school mag (it had mega press coverage), but this is the first time I've gone electronic. (Usually I delete everything by mistake.) So I'm a bit nervous. But there's a universe waiting to hear what I think. So here it goes! (Note to You: If you've been up a mountain in Kathmandu or something and have never heard of me you can go straight to my Christmas letter to get caught up.)
Marcus and I took Duck Dog to the Heath today. Were having a tres romantic stroll through the ancient woods when The Muppet suddenly went loping off the way he does. Marcus went after him. Was leaning against this tree waiting for them to come back when a nearby shrub started vibrating in a strange and suspicious manner. The next thing I know, this v small DINOSAUR is standing there, staring at me with its glassy eyes. This is the sort of thing that happens only TO ME!!! I start out in Hampstead Heath and wind up in Jurassic Park! Was looking round for the film crew when it stuck it's ENORMOUS pink tongue out. And then it started lumbering towards me. (It was small for a dinosaur but big for anything else!) I screamed, "Dinosaur! Dinosaur!", and ran. (Well you would, wouldn't you?) Passed all these men (including mine) running in the opposite direction. Next sound was hysterical male laughter (which IS NOT an attractive sound, if you want my opinion) Turned out it wasn't a dinosaur, it was an iguana. I said well it looks like a dinosaur - and had about as much business in the Heath as a Tyrannosaurus. The park attendant said it was probably somebody's pet they got tired of. (And I thought it was just dogs and cats got chucked out after Christmas is over!) He said I was lucky I moved so fast since it was probably going to try to MATE WITH ME. I said he may not have noticed but I'm not an iguana. He said iguanas will try to mate with anything. Marcus thought that was well hilarious. Didn't speak to him all the way home.
Ran into Disha outside the tube station tonight. I took a wild guess. She said she didn't think the fact that Will was FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATE was significant. He was probably stuck on a train somewhere. I said maybe she should ring him. She said she couldn't ring him, could she, since he's stuck on a train. I said I didn't think it was a good sign that she was making his excuses for him. She said when she wants my opinion she'll ask for it.
Sigmund rolled in this morning with Duck Dog and his backpack (Duck Dog's, not Sigmund's). I said what's this then? He said I promised to look after the Muppet while he's boring the pants off everyone at some conference in Budapest. I have no memory of this. He said if it helped, next time he'll tape our conversation. I said I didn't see why Brandy couldn't look after him. Isn't that the sort of thing a girlfriend's for? Sigmund said not this girlfriend. And anyway Duck Dog doesn't like Brandy. Maybe the Muppet's smarter than I thought.
YOU'RE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE THIS!!! (Why should you? Nobody else does!) Willow next door, our own personal dippy hippy, has decided that this is the year for a mega life change. I said you mean no more astrology, no more herbal remedies, no more jewellery made of dried beans, no more massaging feet and heating oils to get rid of bad vibes, no more meditating, no more stinking the flat up with burning incense? She said that's not what she meant. She's going to use all the skills she's acquired over the years and become a LIFESTYLE GURU. I said you mean like that woman who used to tell Cherie Blair what to do? The one was once a topless model? Willow said no. She's going to concentrate on The Spiritual. If you ask me, she'd be better off concentrating on the material. Those stylists who tell celebrities how to dress make a bomb. [Question to Self: Why is it people who can't sort out their own lives - like Willow and my father - think they can sort out other people's?]
Disha came over last night. It was a surprise visit. I thought she had a date with Will, this bloke she's been dating. She said she did but he cancelled at the last minute. I said AGAIN? She said it was only the fourth time. (Which if you ask me is a lot when you consider they've only known each other since October! I've known Marcus for YEARS and the only time he ever cancelled a date was when he got hit in the head by a flying kettle - it came out of a window - and he fell down and cracked his head and had to go to Emergency for stitches.) I said what about all the times he's failed to show or turned up long after anyone who wasn't smitten would've gone home? She said he always has a good reason. I said oh really? What was tonight's good reason? The cat was run over. I could see if his MOTHER was run over, but the cat? Disha said he was very fond of that cat. I said except for the accent Will was starting to remind me of her last boyfriend. She got all stroppy and said that he's nothing like Ethan. He's much taller.
It's AMAZING I have any nerves left. I'm going to be totally grey by the time I'm twenty if things keep up like this. Was sleeping soundly (with the life I lead, who wouldn't?) when Duck Dog woke me up. He was moaning the way Sigmund does when he's got a cold. Begged him to shut up and come back to bed but he ignored me (like everybody else does). Reached for my slippers to throw them at him but couldn't find them in the dark. Turned on the light. He was sitting by my wardrobe. DD's the sort of dog who if someone broke into the flat would lead them to where you kept all your money, but I reckon from what the Home Secretary's always saying that you can't be too careful these days. Locked the wardrobe and rang the Mad Cow on my mobe. She wanted to know who I was. I said, it's ME, Janet, your only daughter. Told her about The Muppet waking me up and all. She wanted to know if I'd left something rotting in my wardrobe again. Told her that it never ceases to ASTOUND ME how she can remember things that happened five years ago but not remember to buy bread. She and Buskin' Bob came straight in after that. Buskin' Bob's a pacifist (of course!) so he wasn't armed, but the MD was carrying a hammer. Film Noir, the three of us in our pyjamas in the middle of the night, ready to pounce as Buskin' Bob yanked open the door. Marcella was sitting on the floor of my wardrobe (wearing MY SLIPPERS) with a half-eaten bowl of cereal in her hands. She immediately burst into tears. (She'd been in the flat THE WHOLE TIME) Apparently this was ALL MY FAULT too (even though I wasn't the person who gave her a set of keys)!!!! The MC said if I ever bothered hanging anything up we would've found Marcella days ago.
Had one of those days that makes you grateful that you can't possibly live forever. Overslept because the alarm never went off. Then had the MC yapping at me because there wasn't any bread for breakfast. I said it was typical of her to blame ME because she forgot to buy bread. Had to race to the corner for substandard, inorganic bread or starve. Then I couldn't find my eyeliner. Had to wear dark glasses. Walked right into a bus shelter (because it is tres difficult to see in dark glasses in the rain). Got stopped by a security guard going into my tutorial. He thought I was ON DRUGS. Had to kick up a major fuss about my civil liberties (fortunately nobody told him how many of our civil liberties we've lost in the last four years!) to avoid drug test. Told him my father is a human rights lawyer (which is almost true) before he'd let me go. Tripped going up the stairs and broke my glasses.
Marcella must have at least one more friend than I thought because she hasn't turned up yet. Though she did email her mother to announce that she's never speaking to her EVER AGAIN and that she's not to touch anything in her room. So we know she's all right. The police sent Buskin' Bob back to London, in case she lands on us. I said I didn't think that was likely. I mean, you're not going to run away from one home to go to your other home, are you?
MAJOR TURMOIL in the Bandry-Hotspur residence when I got home tonight. Apparently Marcella's run away from home!!!! (I've never seen Marcella run anywhere. She only leaves the sofa to eat or go to bed, and not always then!) The ex-Mrs Hotspur rang with the news that she hadn't seen Marcella since breakfast. When they had yet another fight and she went off to school in a huff. Buskin' Bob was ready to get on his bike and pedal to the wilds of Suffolk, but I managed to calm him down enough to wait till the morning. I said when I was a child like Marcella the Mad Cow and I argued all the time, too, but I never ran away from home did I? I said I reckoned she's hiding at a friend's and she'll be back in the morning. Hope I'm not being too optimistic, thinking that Marcella has any friends.
You'd think there were enough reasons for not taking the tube (the expense, the fact that there's always trouble on the line, the threat of terrorists and the possibility of being shot by the police) but I've FOUND ANOTHER ONE. It was raining, which meant that the buses had pretty much come to a halt and anyway I had all these books etc and didn't feel like being wedged in between pushchairs so I decided to brave the underground. I was wedged between a rather dubious character all covered with buttons and his dogs in the first car. One of the dogs was tres large, even for an Alsatian, so I was a bit wary. I was smiling at him so he'd know I was friendly and keeping my eye on him when the other dog laid down on my feet. I was working out a diplomatic way of saying pardon me but your dog is falling asleep on my only pair of boots to the geezer with the badges when I noticed that there was something really odd about this dog. He looked like a ball of rust with ears. Pointy ears. And beady little eyes. He looked up at me. I looked down at him. I've never seen a fox close up before so I don't know if they all do it, but this one smiled. If there'd been anywhere to jump to, I would have jumped, but needless to say we were packed in like spaghetti in a box. I screamed. And then ALL THESE OTHER PEOPLE STARTED SCREAMING. It sounded like we were in some major disaster film, (I have to admit I was amazed. Although I don't understand why, I've never been what you'd call a trendsetter. I do things that are TOTALLY original and unique, of course, but nobody ever picks up on them. This was a first. Not that I could enjoy it. I was too busy wondering what everybody was screaming about!!!!!) I reckon the driver must've heard the racket because when we got to the next station there were coppers all lined up on the platform. TALK ABOUT TRAUMA!!! We were all herded to this room for questioning. Officer Donleavy wanted to know what made me scream so I explained about the dog that wasn't a dog but a wild animal. Officer Donleavy said, "A fox?" I said yes, it was very definitely a fox. It never ceases to maze me how all these people who are nothing like her can sigh just like my mother.
Well, we've made it into another year. (AGAINST ALL ODDS as Buskin' Bob likes to say!) Went for a walk with Marcus, Sigmund and Duck Dog on the Heath yesterday. Sigmund's old and had a hangover and Duck Dog's The Living Muppet, so it was left to me and Marcus as two of the people who are going to SAVE THE WORLD to reflect on what lies in store in the new year. Marcus said: not much that one would actually want. He's not usually so gloomy. I reckoned this was either an example of how influential environment is (let's not forget that his family comes from Jamaica, where the sun shines all the time and people tend to have a positive outlook, even if it's historically largely unjustified) or he was depressed that he lost to the Vicar at chess last night. I, on the other hand, have decided that Nan is right. We have to cling to HOPE. And I actually found something to be hopeful about!!!! Teenage girls have picked Kylie Minogue as the most inspirational celebrity of 2006. You know, because she's so strong and brave and can dance and sing. Marcus said so what's so hopeful about that? I said it showed that kids aren't as dumb and superficial as the media says they are. They could've picked Paris Hilton or Lindsay Lohan or one of those other celebrities who seem to spend a lot of their time taking off their knickers or throwing up on the pavement. MUCH TO MY SURPRISE, Sigmund agreed with me. He said maybe the future is in good hands after all. He said at least it's in better hands than the present. Tony Blair pretty much picked Bono as his favourite celebrity, a man who bangs on about ending poverty (which, if you notice, he hasn't done) while he lives in a tax haven and sues people for an old pair of jeans.
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Saturday 27th January 2007
Tuesday 23rd January 2007