November 2, 2014

Delay

 

Halloween night 2014 in a relatively small backwoods town in Hampshire, usually stuffed to the whatsit with ordinary boring people including a high percentage of relentlessly law-abiding retired Tories who pride themselves on being tucked up in bed by 10 pm, last night morphed into a David Lynch film.*

I got home at about 5:30 a.m. And I still had to feed the hellmob and myself—I am STAAAARVING after both SP shifts and the Sams**—hurtle the former, bath me and then calm down enough to sleep.***  I’m not going to tell you when I got to bed but it was well past dawn.  Well past.  And twilight came with remarkable speed today.  Like I swear hours early.

And I needed to go sit in the monks’ chapel tonight worse than I needed to finish this week’s KES. As if I have had any brain to finish KES with.

Apologies. If my brain returns from its peregrinations by tomorrow, I’ll have a go.  Otherwise it may have to wait till next Saturday.

* * *

* It could have been worse. It could have been David Cronenburg.  In which case I would be halfway to Mumbai by now.^

^ Okay, a quarter of the way, since we’d’ve had to swing by Scotland to pick Peter up first where he is enjoying a few days of family life in a well run household where meals are on the table at normal meal times and not every surface is encrusted with dog hair.  And we wouldn’t be staying in Mumbai long.  None of us+ would cope with the climate.  Christchurch sounds like a nice temperate city.  Does anyone know if they’ve got their temporary bell tower up and running yet?  I’ve just tried to google it and can’t find anything past that they were going to try.

+ Except maybe Pav.# I’m not sure bullies take notice of little things like ambient temperature and crushing humidity.  Although Pav does not like the kind of rain that hammers her to the ground and then holds her there.  And, like all dogs everywhere, she thinks her human could do something about this if said human took more notice of the intense suffering of her loyal canine companions who are obliged to go with her when she wants to saunter through rain that hammers you to the ground and holds you there.##

# B_twin sent me this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XjZP21vIfgs  I do not, myself, permit pillow-worrying, but the rest looks pretty familiar.  What this video leaves out however is the middle-aged hellhound trying out his moves in parallel.  Pav is FINALLY OFF HEAT and re-permitted into the hurly burly of family life, which is to say causing the hurly burly of family life, and Chaos, who has always been a little manic~, has dusted off his adolescent end-to-end swapping and except for the fact that he’s bigger and in full ecstatic frenzy bumps into the furniture more~~, can provide Pav a little added stimulation that she does not need.~~~

~ One might wonder about his bloodlines. A bullie great-great-great grandparent, the family scandal no one spoke of?  It’s been bred out of Darkness but still maintains a rogue presence in Chaos.

~~ Especially the lashing tail. I swear his tail is about six feet long.  Knowledgeable whippet people tend to look at the hellhounds and say, oh, whip—no, they can’t be whippets, their tails are too long.  Are deerhound tails disproportionately long?  I have no idea.  I wonder how long Sid’s tail is?  I’m sure it’ll be a plot point some time.

~~~ One of the peculiarities of my hellmob is that the hellhounds bark from excitement=, when they hear me coming downstairs in the morning, when they’re pretty sure I’m about to take them for a hurtle, when a Known Friend comes through the door.==  Or when the three of them are having a gambol which sends next door’s nasty little terrier into paroxysms of murderous frenzy===.  Pav, on the other hand, only barks for proper, responsible-dog cause. Burglars.  Delivery persons%.  Neighbours wanting me to look after their cats.  Except of course occasionally when she doesn’t and so I assume I’m imagining that knock on the door and turn over and go back to sleep and come downstairs later to a postcard through the mail slot that says ‘we have tried 1,000,000 times to find you home%% so we could read your gas/electric/water meter and we’re TIRED of this and so we’re going to charge you £bazillion/month till you RING US and fix a date that you WILL BE HOME to LET US IN.’

=including, in Darkness’ case, disapproval, when Pav is getting into something he thinks she shouldn’t. If I’m up to my elbows in dishwater, say, a common occurrence at the moment because the dishwasher is on the fritz again snaaaaaaaarl @, and I hear Darkness bark I shout without moving, Pav! Stop that! There’s usually some wild scuffling, possibly an astonished yip from Chaos, and then silence falls, possibly just about long enough for me to finish the dishes.

@ And Peter is THE WORST DISHWASHER-BY-HAND ON THE PLANET. I used to not approve of dishwashers.  How long ago was that?  Well, I still don’t have one at the cottage.  It’s the Aga or a dishwasher and there’s no contest.  Besides, I’m a good dishwasher-by-hand.  I’d just rather be kidnapped by bandits or doing my tax return.

== I find this particularly amusing when it’s someone like Atlas or Niall, both of whom barely know what a dog is, let alone how to respond to canine enthusiasm.

=== I met the thing today when I was between hurtles and dogless, and so stooped to say hello, because I am a hopeless wet and when I’m not busy trying to control confrontational outcomes will say hello to any dog that isn’t actively biting me.  You could see him looking at me, however, and thinking, you don’t fool me, you revolting hypocrite, you are responsible for the ruination of the neighbourhood.

% Books. Yarn.  Dog food.  Rose bushes.&

& I didn’t say ROSE BUSHES.

%% Do you always keep your curtains closed?  You aren’t really still asleep at mmph o’clock in the afternoon are you?&

& No, only after epic Street Pastors duties.

## You could teach us to use the indoor loo.

** I find all that doing good flapdoodle very draining to a personality that basically wants to say WHY DON’T YOU GO READ A GOOD BOOK AND CHEER/SOBER UP.  I’D BE HAPPY TO RECOMMEND SOME TITLES.

*** Total exhaustion makes me disintegrate, it doesn’t make me sleep.

 

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