That Looks On Tempests

I watch King of California on Astro and decide for a split second that lunatics are charming. It must be exhilarating to live with a person who is unbounded by accepted logic.

That is, until I remember what it was actually like being around a lunatic who asked me to put my fingers between the blades of a table fan that was running, and my hand into a wall (because mass was largely imaginary and we could walk through walls if the spirit moved us).

Most of the time, I was scared out of my wits.

Most of the time, he was drunk.

So I'm thinking, nah, maybe not lunatics exactly. Maybe quirky...quirky's good.

And I wait for Mum to come home from her appointment at the hairdresser's. Her hairdresser operates from a little room at the back of the house, what used to be an airwell. You call, make an appointment and go over. She charges next to nothing. Mum's all excited, a reunion is in the works, and she has spent the past few days on the phone to various friends, she hasn't seen or spoken to in decades.

You can see it is important as she is out at this time...when her shows are on. This means she will be missing Marina. Actually, no, Marina only starts at half past three, so maybe she'll be able to make it.

So this is what was missing in her life - friends her own age, from school no less, back when she used to be popular - getting together catching up on each other's lives...friends who haven't heard each other's stories 100 times, who haven't moved into the same familiar grooves where you talk without saying anything and don't listen cos you've heard it all before.

Remembrance of things past.

Most of them have creaky knees. I know this because when Mum comes up for her afternoon nap during which time I haven't even woken up for the day she tells me about who she spoke to and what ailment they have and adds that maybe they should have had a reunion at 60 rather than 65.

Younger = less ailments = healthier.

However, Mum is definitely spryer these days - when she has something to look forward to. A reunion. Old friends. Nice stuff.

Yesterday she told me she was attacked by a swarm of bees that suddenly appeared out of nowhere and were instantly attracted to her bright orange caftan.

"Bladi hell...when I wore the green caftan, the butterflies used to light on me."

I don't know about you, but I'd prefer butterflies to bees.

Maybe animals just love her. After all our famous squirrel, Botak (who eats all the fruits on our fruit trees) always comes out when Mum is in the garden but disappears at the sight or sound of me. The only animal I seem to be popular with over here is Maggotty. (That's Maggot the dog, not the actual maggots, though come to think of it, I seem to be pretty popular with the ants and mosquitoes as well).

I have chopped onions annd garlic for vindaloo.

I am supposed to make lemon curd cake as well, but maybe I'll wait until Thursday, when we've chucked all the cake that's about a month old in the fridge, as well as the remainder of my failure of an angel pie which continues to occupy much space in all its creamy glory and is much avoided by both mother and brother.

Although it hasn't rained in days, maybe weeks...it is windy outside and the chimes are all tinkling together, a choir, a cacophony and orchestra....you decide...

Still aimless...