Somehow I just made enough dahl for twelve people. There’s two of us. Similarly every time I make a cup of tea I pour in just too much boiling water so that when you get to adding the honey & the milk it either slops over just a little, or else you have to lean in and apply a hot, furry sip with lots of breath in it before lifting the cup and carrying it to the desk. Every time it’s a surprise, I was convinced it would all fit. I’d like to think this is my generous nature. But it could be I just lack a grasp of basic physics.
Tag: home
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socceroo
Last night, lying on the couch wrapped in a blanket and reading his book, my companion said, thoughtfully, “Now is about the time I wouldn’t mind watching some football.” Ah, if only we had a TV. But we don’t! I decided to act some out for him, make him feel at home. I snatched up a basket that was lying about and clutched it jealously against my ribs, made a scuttled rush across the floor, growling. Arr, I said, growwwwr. Dumped the basket just inside the next doorway and rolled and fell, invisibly tackled from behind. Rawwwwwr, I said: rawwwwwwwr! (That’s the crowd). He watched, marking his place with a long finger. “That was good. But when I say football, really I am talking about soccer.” The European game! Oh, then… I sat down and we went back to our books.
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mouth bandit
Some days I really miss my cat. She is grey & downy and is a right little snuggleupagus. She’s also a kind of miracle cat because she got lost one night, this was in inner Melbourne, and stayed lost for five months until one day someone rang in response to one of my posters, saying, I think your cat is living in our backyard. She had survived as a street cat and was thin but unharmed. Whilst not living in alleyways she likes to harvest unattended hair elastics from the desks of working poets and will carry them about in her mouth for hours, tirelessly playing fetch…. like a little dog. I love her but we always had two separate piles: mine (to hold my hair back) and hers (a bit manky from being scuffled and chewed).
One thing I love about cats is their ambition. I would see her crouched at the foot of a wall, every fibre bristling with concentration as she sighted up a browsing mosquito or a shadow under the ceiling. “I can take that, I can totally take it!” And yet they seem to have no other desire than to laze. Most important of all is: be comfortable. Always be comfortable.
