Adult content at the beginning. Then cake. And dead people.
2014-11-23, 7:35 p.m.
After a particularly frantic, fraught and fruitless search around the house for batteries, I discovered (to my almost immediate joy) that Carmen Intra-sonic Massagers�..umm�..Anyway. It was nice to finally find a useful employment for it as, in the 20 years or so Ive been persevering with the damn thing, it has never once sorted out my frozen shoulder, which is what I got it for in the first place.
I tried to find a product link for y�all, but it looks like they don�t make such an instrument anymore. Possibly because they don�t fucking well work on any kind of genuine ailment and are not the health-giving miracle treatment that they were advertised as, back in the 90s. Perhaps I should ring Carmen up and see if they�ve got any old stock of them hanging about. I could remarket them (possibly with a picture of Chris Hemsworth on the handy carry case) as �Thor�s Mighty Joy-Hammer� (with multi-speed and interchangeable heads for maximum JESUS-FUCKING-H-CHRIST!)
Today, I am mostly procrastinating. Procrastinating because I don�t want to do any marking or lesson planning as its Sunday afternoon and Sunday afternoons are made for lounging about on the sofa eating Frazzles in a post-onanismic state of euphoria. Procrastinating because I had a busy day yesterday and have no desire to have a similar level of activity today. Procrastinating because, in the words of the entire school-age population of everywhere, �CBA, Miss. CBA*�
There�s some stuff to tell you about, naturellement, so we�ll start with the shitty and work our way up to the magnificent, shall we?
My cousin killed herself. I want to feel traumatised by this, I really do. She was my age and when we were young blades there were six of us cousins, all born within two years, who hung around together and were generally fabulous; Me and Stepfordbro, SillySally and her brother Bean, Jacqueline (known, with all the sophistication of the teenage punster as E-jac-u-line) and her brother, Our Trev. We hung around so much together that SillySally eventually married Stepfordbro�s best friend, Simes.
Now SillySally is no more � done herself in (by means unknown at the time of writing � its not exactly a question you can ask her grieving mother, is it?) in the back of her horse box, after leaving a note and locking the keys to the stable yard gate in her (also locked) car so that nobody would be able to get in and find her.
I want to feel bad, I really do, and I can feel a little eye-prickle as Im writing this, but its not for her. Its for Simes, who I have loved like a brother since he was about 12, and for their two teenage kids. And for SillySally�s mum, who is 80 for fucks sake and shouldn�t be facing the prospect of burying one of her children. And for�well, I don�t know�maybe for everyone dealing with mental illness and taking the decision to NOT do the whole �note/horsebox/locked gate� thing. Not today anyway.
I doubt I�ll be able to get time off for the funeral. I cant decide how I feel about that. I would write a letter to Simes but I don�t know how to not write �I love you loads and I just cant bear it that someone would knowingly hurt you so badly�, because I don�t think that would help.
Onwards and upwards. Jooj got her Cambridge interview date through, which means she is now frantically reading everything on the reading list. And by �frantically�, I mean �she has quit her shitty temporary job at Twatalan as she thinks a few more reading hours in the day will make the difference between Going to Cambridge and Not Going to Cambridge�. Ive asked for the day off to take her to the interview but they haven�t replied yet. Don�t know what I�ll do if they say No. She really needs someone to go with her and she needs that person to be me. Cross everything you have that can be crossed, dear Diaryland, round about the 9th December � mumma�s baby needs to go to a university that will allow her to rack up in excess of �30K worth of debt. Or something. She already has unconditional offers from 3 other very good universities but�well�Cambridge.
I suppose that means she will soon be a proper grown up. This thought is further fixed in my mind by her becoming A Person Who Is 19 yesterday. One of her party friends was described to me as �lactose intolerant vegetarian� which doesn�t make them the easiest of buffet guests, but I got cracking and knocked up a dairy-free sponge cake. If you have similarly fucking awkward friends, you may like to consider the following:
In a bowl, mix 10oz self raising flour, 2 teaspoons baking powder and 8oz sugar. In a jug, mix 4 eggs, 2 tablespoons apple juice and 14 tablespoons (210ml) vegetable/sunflower oil.
Seriously, if you can work a spoon you can probably make this, so mix the runny stuff into the dry stuff and give it a bloddy good stir around until its not lumpy-looking. Divide the mixture between two lined 8� tins and bake at 180/375/Gas4 for 25 mins
Once they�ve cooled down, stick em together with some jam or whatever you normally like to have in the middle of your cakes and then make em look pretty with glace icing, sprinkles, birthday candelabra or whatever.
Serve with jelly shots
And sausage rolls that you have fucking well hand crafted from Linda McFuckingCartney vegetarian sausages and homemade (butter free) pastry
And sing Happy Birrrrrthday to Yeee-ooooooooow
Why, yes. I AM a fucking legend, actually.
Later
S
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