It seems like a very self-critical process. I mean, people's resolutions always seem to be about changing something they dislike about themselves, never "I will take better care of myself". I have always wondered if criminals ever use New Year's Resolutions in court.
"Hey, I burnt down someone's house, but I have made a resolution to not do that again! So thats OK!"
But thats the way it always seems to go... you commit a crime, and then before you know it you've found God or some other sympathy attracting ideology like Buddhism, Pacifism, Christianity, Humanism, Vegetarianism....
Anyway, to me, New Year's Resolutions are just about as useful as a chocolate ice-cream teapot.
Near Valentine's Day its seems that everyone begin calling each other by increasingly strange and fluffy names. I don't have a problemo with dear, darling or sweetheart.... they are all very elegant and charmingly nostalgic. Its when people start calling me their little artichoke, or a cute pumpkin. In what possible way is being called a pumpkin in any sense a compliment!? Also, I don't understand why around this time family members start referring to each other by varying sizes of foodstuff. I once met a family who was insistent on calling each other 'Big Cheese' and 'Auntie Cheese', or 'Mummy Cheese'. What was their child supposed to be called?? Babybel?! Is the Italian cousin supposed to be called 'Signor Parmigiano'?!? I know that Goldilocks and the Three Bears is a lovely story, and I do love porridge both salty and sweet, but another thing is to put the family oat-eating fest into practice. No, I am a good fan of the old-fashioned Valentine's day of chivalry and romance, when you receive a big bunch of red roses and some chocolates which you stuff down so quickly you probably turn off your partner completely.
I also found out the verdict of the Americans. I should explain, that I had an interview for an American university, not that I was really intending to go there, but I thought I'd have a go. Anyway, I received a letter saying in a really flamboyant and long-winded fashion that I had been rejected. I t didn't really surprise me. At the beginning of the interview they asked me to describe myself; I told them that was for them to do. They then asked me to talk about my achievements, as though they didn't already have my CV right in front of them. Essentially, they asked me to big my self up and self-grandisize, in a very typical American way, something which is very un-English and I am not accustomed to doing. So, I told them, I had been given the medal of honor, received a knighthood, hosted my own cooking show, and that I can hold my breath for 30 seconds. That confused them. We then got onto what I thought would happen to Cuba when Castro dies; I told them that I though the USA would take over and turn it into Disneyland Havana. I don't think they liked that. Ah well, I was only really interested in the burgers and cheesecake across the Atlantic anyway.
Last weekend I went to Manchester with my quartet to take part in a music course that was being held there, playing a piece by Ravel. It turned out to be really good fun and a nice break from school. We were however, staying in a Premier Inn in what was probably the most dingy area of Manchester possible, and also I was on pretty much the top floor. Like the London Tube, elevators are one of those mysterious places where you are never sure what to say to your fellow companion. Which in my case, just happened to be none other that Manchester's finest, wholesale prostitute. Despite the fact that she was about 40, had hair the colour of a banana souffle and looked as though she has been high all day, she seemed like a perfectly nice person. Being one who is inclined to reserve all judgements, I politely said "Hello" to her. It didn't take long for her to realise that I was clearly not from the area, and so she asked me what I was doing here. I told her that I had come from school and had been doing Maurice Ravel all day, to which she replied;
"Ooooohhhhh!! So you go for tha French guys! You got tayste!!"
I didn't know whether to be more surprised that she had recognised Ravel to be French, or that she had failed to recognise he has been dead for over a century.
Last week, we had the highly extravagant school concert which went very well, but left everyone exhausted. So when I finally got back to house after a hard day, I decided to go online shopping. As one does. And I was highly entertained by the fact that almost every store I entered had a clearance section, and every clearance section was FILLED with these things which some highly innovative people on the Apprentice decided to create: 'capelets'. They look kind of like ponchos but are not. Ah, the capelet! We had such high hopes for you as a fashion item! But now we have all learned An Important Lesson, namely, "We should not base our Winter line on anything recommended by the contestants on the Apprentice," and also, "Why would anyone actually need a capelet, anyway? This item of clothing makes no sense."
The Capelet: What You Wear When You Just Can't Commit To A Coat! What You Wear When your Shoulders Are Kind Of Chilly, But Not So Much Your Arms!
Anyway. I'm getting a little carried away with the capelets. But my shopping day culminated with the purchase of several items, most of which were for myself. Which is not necessarily the way Lent is supposed to work, but you know. A girl has to have something to wear. Anyway, along my adventure surfing the internet, I came across an amazing offer of a set of 21 domestic knives with a FREE knife sharpener for only £21.99! I was so tempted to buy it, but eventually decided against it, not knowing what I would do with them once I had them. Instead, I decided to do the moral thing and buy a goat for some random family in Africa.
So my shopping spree amounted up to the following:
Gifts Bought: 0
Items of clothing bought for self: 6
Goats Purchased: 1
Domestic Knives NOT purchased: 21, plus a FREE KNIFE SHARPENER
Pointless entries written, but, y'all, it's just so EASY with the movable type and the typing and the thing and then, WHAM, it's there, and I wanted to post something despite the fact that I don't have anything to say, really, and also, the phone keeps ringing and I lose my train of thought so I'm all, uh, people, GIVE ME A SECOND, but there it goes again, and I've forgotten where I was going with this, exactly: 1
Thanks everyone for over 200,000 reads to date!
Happy Belated Birthday to Pini and Cecily! (And mine tomorrow.... Beware the Ides of March!)
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