Random Train of Thought featuring a blocked toilet.

Train of Thought

This is an old photo (around five years ago?). I am thinking of having a fringe again. Should I do it?

 I have so much in my head, I have to write to get it out, somehow alleviate the pressure and chaos.  It isn’t an unpleasant chaos, but it’s chaos nonetheless. A muscle outside the right of my upper thigh is spazzing. I obviously need magnesium.

 Griz said I should carry salt around, it’s a witchy solution used for purification, blessings and protection. She also gave me a lovely gift of magical insence, so when I burnt it I put it on a bed of salt. I put the salt in an old silver salt pig. The smell of rose and lavender is beautiful; I have to take the smoke alarm off the ceiling so that it doesn’t get excited.

Watched another two episodes of Breaking Bad, Season Two last night. Oh my god and all the deities! It was episode 10. The point at which our anti-hero embraces his role as one very naughty boy. It was shiveringly good. It’s now at the point where you say “there is now no redeeming quality to his manufacturing of meth”.  And yes, prior to this episode, one could sort of justify it.

Tosca is very frisky and talkative this morning. Running around and jumping on my printer, fluffing up her tail like a little fox. Not that I’d know if it really was like a little fox, I’m just imagining. Have you ever seen a real fox? I’ve mainly seen them in children’s books or on some documentary from long ago. Foxes make me think of the rich folk in England who hunt them for sport. What a strange thing to do.Tally ho, chase the cute little animal and rip it to shreds.

As a child I was quite obsessed with doing my ‘picture stories’ which usually involved the rich upper classes laughing at poor people and pushing them into mud puddles. I also liked to draw ‘ugly competitions’  where you’d only win if you were hideous enough. I found it difficult to draw men, they were so straight up and down. I often drew the women naked before I turned it into some kind of clothing pattern. When I was 10 I prayed every night that I would have big breasts like my mother. It wasn’t to be the case, but I certainly ended up with a generous bum, so I can’t complain.

What I can complain about right now is that my toilet is STILL BLOCKED. It’s been blocked for ages and I keep using the pumpy thing to try and unblock it to no avail. Feather was supposed to come over for dinner last night but she was sick, and it’s just as well, for my toilet brings me great shame.

If I have to do a pooh now, I really am a bit flummoxed. I can go upstairs and ask to use the land lady’s, or go in the bush. I cannot yet bring myself to do the deed in a plastic bag and save it up for rubbish day. Please toilet angels, unblock the loo for me. It’s getting ridiculous. When I first told my land lady, she said

“What you do?”, and then when she was sure I hadn’t stuffed a tampon factory down the pipes, she looked at me as if I were a criminal and said

“Last tenant no problem. Nothing wrong. What happen?”

“Well maybe I did a really big pooh? I don’t know.”

She laughed and said “You do elephant pooh?”

She gave me the plunger thing to use and then a couple of days later told me to poke a big stick down the drain, “but don’t break stick or it get stuck too”.

Sigh. I have not got a big stick yet, though I have tried an unravelled wire coat hanger. It’s useless. It’s beyond useless. This is one of those little toilets that don’t have a decent throat; it’s a toilet for children or people who don’t shit. I don’t even know why these toilets exist.

I haven’t heard from the blue eyed Israeli writing waiter of Cornwall Park. It would have been good to go to the Rialto, but I wasn’t that excited about him, so that’s okay. I wondered if he might grow on me though. He seemed keen, but that might just be his approach with all women. Sort of throw out the net and act all eager and then change direction at the last minute. Well, not like he’d be the only man in history to have done that.

Today I’m seeing my cousin for his birthday, going with mum, and then tonight (yay) I’ll join Lou, Johnny and Eliza in Devonport for dinner. Lovely. I could do a haloumi and walnut salad with lashings of olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

It’s not yet ten am, and I’d like another coffee but I fear an elephant pooh may want out … and then I’m forced to borrow a toilet or crash my way down into the woods. Sigh.

Oh, here I am going on about shit all when I could mention that mum and I went out for a belated mother's day dinner the other night, before we went and saw Tim Furniss (a young NZ comedian). The dinner was at the Mecca Stonehouse in Mission Bay. I had one of those Entertainment book vouchers for a good discount. 

"Hey mum, you know how I said that it doesn't really matter what you're eating as long as you're in good company ..."

"Yeah .."

"Well, I might have to take it back."

The reason for this revision was clear; the food was utterly amazing. I had lamb shanks; the rosemary imbued meat fell from the bone and every mouthful was rich and delicious. I had the Church Road Chardonnay (always reliable) and mum decided to try the Indian beer with her fish and chips. I think I liked the beer more than mum, it had a sweetness to it that would have complimented a spicy dish perfectly. The waiter was proud of it too - "this is the best Indian beer in the world".

I think it was called Kingfisher.

Excellent food with excellent company cannot be beaten. Average food with excellent company is still good. Amazing food with crappy company ruins the appetite.

I'm now finishing my second coffee. I went up to the land lady's and used her toilet so I feel a lot happier. Didn't fancy the plastic bag option. I got a bit emotional about the toilet when I spoke to her. She's going to buy me a really long plastic glove today. Oh goodie, I can't wait.

Love and light, and remember not to take your flushing toilet for granted!