1. A notice advertising a Primary School Ferret Racing Match. So *that's* where the missing Turnham Green ferret got to. Clearly it was a top stud, kidnapped by the local schoolkids to spawn a race of atomic super-ferrets.
2. A gigantic, filthy plush womble, lying on its back by the bins outside Starbucks.
In other news, upon noticing my own reflection (as you do) in a shop window, was dismayed to find that I am looking very fucking Chiswick today. Pink tweed coat, swirly patterned bag in shades of chocolate and lilac, iPod headphones, grande skinny latte in hand. Whatever would Nick Cave say*?
I have to get out of here.
*"I went to bed last night and my moral code got jammed/Woke up this morning with a Frappuccino in my hand". Of course.
3 comments:
Handmade in Chiswick, no less, in a fabric called Ginger Bliss. Which is probably also the title of millefleurs' autobiography!
Ferrets, ginger, bliss....and, before you know it,we're back in you-know-where land. We've just got to stop!
Apologies for not offering you any musical misery remedies yesterday. I was still 'caring', honestly. But I could only have suggested various deleriously joyful pieces by Handel, Stravinsky,Tippett et al that would have been like shouting into the wind - and showing off to boot.
Oh, we'll have no showing off here (ha ha). Thanks cello, it's very much appreciated. If only my Dad hadn't put me off classical music at a young age by forcing me to learn the piano, oboe, cello (yes) and clarinet. Been rebelling against my middle-class upbringing ever since. In, er, unnoticeable ways.
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