A feast fit for a Friday...

Appetizer
What was a class or course you took while in school that you realize now was a total waste of time?

Um, I'm not sure. I don't think any of the specific courses I have ever taken have ever offered me any truly Valuable Life Skills. If, for example, I was stranded on an alien planet and had to re-start civilisation from scratch, say, I doubt that my knowlegde of post-modernist French Literature would get me very far. My degree wasn't massively useful, but I enjoyed it, so it wasn't a waste of time.

Thinking back to school, now.

A-levels, GCSEs. Well, all not used on a day-to-day basis (except Science. I regularly bandy about my GCSE level knowledge of the reproductive organs of a flower. Actually, wait, hang on. I have just realised that I know everything I know about that from the song 'Reproduction' in Grease 2. That is... possibly not good.) but certainly not a waste of time.

I've got it. SEWING. I had sewing classes at school until the age of fourteen. The only thing I remember completing was a fabric pencil case, and I stapled the whole thing together. Not a stitch in sight. As I recall the teacher still gave me seven out of ten for it. I must have cut the material really well, I can only assume.

Yes, sewing class was wasted on me.

Soup
Who is the tallest person you know?

The tallest girl I know is Pippa, who is pehaps six foot...one? Taller than me, anyway. I am five foot six, though, so that's not a massive challenge.

The tallest man? I don't know. I just think of people as being 'really tall' without bothering to find out how tall they are. Anywhere over the six foot four mark and you fall in to the 'really tall' category. Tall people don't like other people asking them exactly how tall they are, it annoys them. I don't like annoying people. Except for my love of tickling people and then getting really upset with them if they tickle me back.

Salad
What's your favorite midnight snack?

Well, if I have been out getting resonated and come home, then probably something carb based. I like rice cakes and oat cakes with cheese and pesto. My impish sister (who lives in Foreign Climes and whom we therefore Do Not Quite Trust anymore) likes to have cheese and pesto and tomato sauces and things as an oft-quite-elaborate snack. These are Good Things.

Main Course
Have you ever found money somewhere? If so, where did you find it, and how much was it?

I once found a wallet with a tenner in it, when I was at University, but I gave it to the police. Who doubtlessly spent it themselves. Perhaps on vests.*

(*This is a reference to the "What did the policeman say to his stomach?" joke. The answer is, of course, "You're under a vest".)

Dessert
Where would you like to retire?

I don't know. I'll need to look around a bit further, first. If I retired right now, which I wouldn't for the world, I would travel.


I like doing those Friday Feasts. I'm full now.

I am feeling actually better today. Really back to normal. The accuracy of the decision to use the word 'normal' in relation to myself is, obviously, somewhat questionable, but we will go with it nevertheless.

I'm meeting up with Dan tonight, and then we're going to meet Maya and some of her friends and go out in Soho. I will not be aiming for resonation, because I have to be in Ealing (West London) for eleven, which is far away from where I live, in Clapham (South West London). It shouldn't be far away, but due to tubes being a bit funny around there and also buses being a little confusing, I reckon it'll take me at least an hour. I am going to meet whatshisname. You know, thingy, the object of my ex-paranoia (I am no longer paranoid). He is a good one, I think. Perhaps.

I wrote and recorded one and a half new songs last night. Not before sitting in my living room with Bec and David singing along to Dina Carroll's classic hit 'Don't Be A Stranger' at the top of our voices. There are some really good moments of drama in that song that call for hand actions and head bowing. The joy is incomparable.

I pity our neighbours. Not enough to stop singing, though.

I sent Sophie a present in the post yesterday. I wanted it to be a surprise for her, but I am fearful that something might happen to it between now and her little Parisian flat.

(Remind me to, at some point, tell you the story of Sophie Moving To Paris On A Whim Aged Nineteen And Three Quarters. With nowhere to live, and only two [admittedly fucking MASSIVE] suitcases of clothes to sustain her. Oh, and no job. Also I will tell you of how there are some people who want her to represent France in the Eurovision Song Contest. If you're not familiar with the Eurovision Song Contest, it is exactly what it sounds like it would be, but about six million times more cheesy. You'd love it! Unless, of course, you have any taste or fashion sense.)

Anyway, the present is nice, and when she receives it I will tell you what it was.

This is a better way to feel. I am feeling better. I would like to extend a Formal Apology to my housemates for being perhaps a bit withdrawn in the last few days, and to the people in the downstairs flat, who no doubt are walking around today not quite being able to get the phrase "whhhhhyyyyyy? I don't kno-o-o-o-ow. I'm in to dee-eeeep....to say no-o-o-o-o..." out of their heads.

The sky is very, very blue today in London.