Eight hours left of 2011, so here is a toilet tale to round off the year. I’ve always been a bit scatological. This is defined by the Oxford Dictionary as “an interest in or preoccupation with excrement and excretion”. OK. I find the topic interesting, sometimes funny, diverting and love the taboos surrounding all things pooh-related/matter out of place. More harshly, the Cambridge Dictionary definition is “showing an extreme and unpleasant interest in solid waste and sex”. Wow. A lovely example of pejorative, value laden, interpretations of words and language, wrapped up in an authoritative, comprehensive (‘neutral’) text.
Part 3 of the overland saga and I’ve even grubbed around in the attic for my old sketch pad.
Sleeping. By the time we reached the desert we slept where we lay our sleeping mats. Scattered around the truck in two’s and three’s. Generally as far from the canoodling couples as possible. There were no roads, just space. It was pretty cold at night, so we’d bundle up in sleeping bags and doze off watching the shooting stars party.
My eyesight has got much worse over the past couple of years. I’ve gone from wearing glasses to watch tv, to wearing glasses to stop banging into things. I take em off every night and leave them on top of the toilet. One Sunday morning I got up early, did my biz and flushed the toilet. My dressing gown sleeve caught my glasses just at that point and whizzled them down the toilet.
“AAARRRGGHHHHHH!!!!!”, I screamed in horror… “Whassup?” said a sleepy Richy Rich… “I flushed my glasses down the toilet..” I gibbered. Continue reading