Twin bulbs bob in a frothy sink, their seasonal hand-painted colours lurking at the plug. Gifts, placed out of the reach of self-sharpening claws, are wrapped in gaudy, light-weight paper, the To:s and From:s supplied by crass stickers. The only new adornments to the FPT are quintuplet acrylic canes in the usual triad of shades — for only 1.49. All but one greeting card went from packet to envelope with a mere pause for inky tidings. So much for the Martha Stewart holiday plans (hold the gaol term, please) to match last year's efforts. Such cut corners should, ideally, make room on the dial for more important pursuits: brain-to-keyboard projects, reading and simply resting. But somehow the time slips into the past regardless, so let's not waste more by worrying.
Stiffened from an eve of assembling a bakery of bricks, and dogged by the faint but persistent (mal)odour of mouldering fish and porcine mince, at last the befuddled creature attempts to generate what HATT calls New Content — worthy of a clink. A paragraph a day was our latest pact, inspired by the encouragement and advice of a to-be-published author. Three such, up for scrutiny today, deserve an equal measure in reply. Never mind the guff about them being less than perfect; imprecise eroticism and I peal yellow with laughter. (Do you think the rubbing-off of his influence is a good or bad thing? That's not code, Craig.)
The fat breakfast, erotic fruit, market goods and exmass fruit pies will soon be joined by the new sensation, Indian fries, which are spinning in the 'wave. What's the jolly season without feeling as stuffed as the customary bird? Anyway, this is nothing to the twenty-fifth, when food coma is a near certainty. Mr Three is pouring out the fizzy lifting drinks, so as I race to the finish I beg forgiveness, and ask you to imagine this 'graph is longer. I'm always chastised for the final installment being shorter than the others. It's an affliction; finishing what I started is a bear-sized bug, as the Wri Mo will attest. Which reminds me: finished yet?
0 comments:
Post a Comment