My front door has developed a groan from the cold. In one of those marvellous twists of fate the groan is identical in every long note to the opening trombone blast of Bob Dylan’s ‘Everybody Must Get Stoned.’
image from internet
I walk into the house behind Grace and every time add in the descending ‘Baow,
Before launching into the verse. ‘They’ll stone you when you’re trying to be so good
They’ll stone you just like they said they would….’
It is hardly possible to feel the fates are against you when your door is a Dylan fan.
However, having said that, we were quite sorely tried this week. My darling Grace got food poisoning on the commute home from Bath and was exhausted and very stressed for several days. I decided not to travel until she got her mojo back.
‘Sick as a Dog’ (c) T. Bush 09
Then the blokes came on the dot of 8 am (the DOT?! Isn’t it normally between 9 and 5pm?) to put a new sink unit into my kitchen……only ‘someone’ forgot to check the measurements and neither of them could connect up the drain or stuff the washing machine back in. The carpenter scratched his head, then his arse, made a couple of calls, put his tools away..and left.
They’ll send a man round,’ he muttered over his shoulder but he didn’t sound convinced.
‘You’re a man,’ I said to his retreating overalls but also without conviction.
That night I cracked my toe into the washing machine sticking half way out into my skinny kitchen and dropped the entire bag of paprika into my supper. I am not Hungarian. the food was wasted.
Tuesday night and Grace and I were floating home after our meditation class and we were nearly run down by a yoof. I shrieked and leapt back dragging poor Grace. He was so close he actually caught my hair as I jumped back. Gasping in shock I glared up at his back. His hood was up, his back relaxed, straight and he didn’t turn around but casually cycled away. A chill went through me as I realised that this boy/man had actually driven at us. Tried to knock us or at very least give us a fright. I didn’t shout at him. I was scared he might come back.
Image from internet
I was anxious that, with my dreadful night vision I had missed something. Perhaps he had tried to warn me? Or perhaps I could have avoided him somehow..read the signs? That is the problem with visual impairment in an emergency. Everything moves to fast for me to scan and especially at night when my vision is almost nil I don’t stand a chance against an idiot like that. I HATE being so vulnerable. I can’t fight what I can’t see. I am not a ninja. (Not yet Bro…not yet..)
(Creepier..There was someone parked across the road. I know this because he had turned his headlights off when Grace and I came to the kerb..but noone got out of the car to help or offer reassurance. I wonder more about that person. I would have got out of the car…wouldn’t you.?)
Remember my door…I am fine. Grace is now in good form too and in two weeks I shall be with my fabulous Dad in the stonkingly delightful t
hough often remarkably smelly Lusaka.
Grace will be on a farm with a bunch of dogs she knows and loves, horses, chickens, geese and a bantam cockerel called Zeb who is more beautiful then Brad Pitt..(and therein possibly one of the reasons why I remain single…chicken lust. Or is that just a too refined appreciation of cocks…sorry..)
‘Photo: Zeb’ (C) T.Bush 09
Anyway, back to the homework and back to Bath at the weekend. More soon and much love to all but that sodding little hoodie….
image from the internet
‘….Well they’ll stone you when you are all alone
They’ll stone you when you are waling home
They’ll stone you and then say they’re all brave
They’ll stone you when they send you to your grave
But I would not feel so all alone
Everybody must get stoned!’