Literatea

Wow. For those of you who frequent the major London stations, definitely give those Leaping Salmon booth thingy’s a go.

Had a posh dinner with two of my friends,Steve and John, who are busy people who work in town but want to pretend they’re Jamie Oliver. The concept is this:

you’re an Actuary. You have foolishly invited people over on a week night for a charming evening meal. You have no time to cook/shop/anything so you stop off at Paddington or wherever, find a Nouvelle Cuisine Fast Food Do It Yourself Booth Thingy and buy (for instance) Crispy Grilled Salmon with Hot & Sour Broth and Udon Noodles with Asian Guacamole (I wonder if there is a word in Japanese for Guacamole? Answers on a postcard). It was terrific, a really gorgeous meal.

I think that the race is on, though, as Friend No 1 did so well last night that Friend No 2 wants to have a go in showing off similar Gary Rhodes-esque Culinary Flair and after a morning’s frenzied emailing (did I say they were busy…?) we have arranged a date for said do.

Boys and their (culinary) toys. Honestly.

My Weekend:

Friday- youth club

Saturday- breakfast at a jazz cafe thingy @ 7 am

– setup for church table sale (not selling tables) @ 8 am

– chillin round someone’s house (or movies- is XMen out yet?)pm

Sunday- church and NO SUNDAY SCHOOL/VIDEO PROJECTOR/ANYTHING ELSE DUTIES, hurrah!

– pub in the evening

Monday -SHOPPING, hurrah

-youth leaders meeting for upcoming Carroty Wood weekend away, pm

Tuesday -dinner with the boys, hurrah! am making tiramisu (must remember to ask italian aunt how to)

Have a good ‘un peeps

Tralala. Am off to see the bluebells around Hever in a minute and then down the local for some grub.

England’s great in the Spring. I luvvit.

Ooh, look at that… it’s 16:49 and Nelly is at it again.

Contrary to popular belief, it’s not that I’m anally retentive and have nothing better to do with my life than count smarties in jars, alphabetise the herbs in my larder, colour prioritise my socks or anything else of the sort.

I don’t have a very good reason for logging at this time of day. I just like it, that’s all. I get to four thirty and I think, hey! I’ve had enough of doing whatever it is I’ve been doing. Let’s do something else. So I do.

Recommendation of the day:

If you don’t have small groups tonight then get yourself off to Blokkies and rent a copy of My Big Fat Greek Wedding. It’s marvellous.

Gripe of the day:

My order from the quarterof (see earlier log) site still hasn’t come because despite having ordered it a week ago, Easter Weekend kinda coincided with delivery days. So no floral gems or chocolate limes or hand made pear drops yet, but I wait in anticipation.

A conversation in the office the other day sparked off a memory from my childhood, and since Easter has just passed I thought it’d be quite appropriate. It really made me smile because this particular memory was a wonderful display of love. I haven’t any rugrats of my own as yet, but a few of my friends do so it’s easy to see from a grown-up’s perspective how people get over their kids.

When I was about ten and living in Johannesburg, my mum came over to England on a holiday to surprise my Grandmother for her birthday. This trip coincided with Easter and so at the time, being the eldest, I was a bit concerned as to whether my siblings and I would be remembered by Dad, aka the Easter Bunny. How very silly of me to worry, since on Easter Sunday Dad woke us up (it was very chilly, lots of dew on the grass) and sent us into the garden to look for eggs. If I remember correctly, there was a very well thought-out hunt with clues and everything which led us to the most wonderful array of eggs- all hand made!

Dad had obviously stayed up in the evenings making a great variety of chocolate goodies for his loved ones- there were real eggshells filled with chocoate, there were white chocolate lollipops, there were nests of little eggs… it wasn’t unlike a mini Willy Wonka’s factory in our house that Easter Sunday all those years ago. I think I might go and email my father in a minute, just to remind him of that and to say thanks again- at the time, I childishly enjoyed the chocolate. Now, I can enjoy the fact that Dad would never forget anything important (no matter how trivial) to his kids, and never has.

Do you ever get that warm fuzzy feeling when something sparks off a childhood remembrance? I get them all the time- I always have and it’s great.

Just yesterday I was at lunch and something wriggled its way into the forefront of my brain and yelled “HIDEEHI!!”, and although I won’t bore you with that particular one, I did have to smile broadly and hope no-one was watching the loon in the corner grinning inanely at herself.

Well, deep as all this sounds, today’s Link o’t’ Day is lighthearted. It serves two purposes- one, as a remembrance of those fabulous sweets you used to be able to get and just can’t any more, and two, to sell those selfsame sweets to the tooth-rotting public. Bon apetite!

Give me glucose and give it now!!

Okay so today we’re going to look at Stupid Leaders. There are a lot of them out there, but I guess you can’t have a complete grip on reality if you’re going to lead a bunch of people in this hazycrazy world we live in.

Loopy Leader of the Day is President Rolandas Paksas of Lituania, a country rising up in the ranks of current world nations as it is poised to enter the European Union.

Recently many of his Lithuanian countrymen were cringing at the President’s insistence to continue to rely for advice on local mystic Lena Lolisvili.

Among Lolisvili’s methods for healing people: She wraps them in toilet paper, which she believes God has energized for her.

“Special Delivery”.

Just two little words which I love. It’s thrilling waking up on a Friday and thinking “ooh…my parcel is arriving today”, then the deliciously excrutiating wait until 9:15 when Postie arrives. Then of course it’s the fun of ripping open the parcel to see the contents. I love it- and what a great way to start one’s Friday.

Oh, and Lemly, Cheers M’Dear! You’re so right, 23 isn’t old at all, what was I thinking??!!

Right, it has been said that my last entry emulated a certain very dull wiblog’s style.

As this was entirely unintentional, I can only assume that the Cult of Boringness is using biochemical mind-altering agents to infiltrate the consciousness of those not subscribing to The Way of All Boredom.

“How does this link to television?” I hear you ask. My other theory is this:

Since I’ve given up on telly, I find that my mental processes have slowed down to a sloth-like pace and my daily logs are suffering. Can it be? The modern generation can’t even think of anything interesting to say without the stimulus of a box?

Quick! I need a good dose of Neighbours!

Okay, so I was going to talk about my day. Then I thought “boring”. So I’m not.