Oh dear. What with one thing and another (namely getting rid of errant mythological infestations), I've only had the chance to read one book this month. Still, one is better than none, I suppose? And just like the last book, I read the majority of this one between calls at "work".
Yes, it's chick-lit. But it's actually pretty good. Here's what some other people said about it. I've had this book hanging around for ages, always putting it aside for another (usually Star Trek or Calvin & Hobbes-based) until I discovered the other day that I don't have any other books to read that I hadn't read before. In fact, this was one of the books that was in the loft that I couldn't be bothered to go up and get back in March.
Oh my gods! I've just wiki'd 'Jane fallon' for the link above and discovered that she's going out with that irksome clod Ricky sodding Gervais! Although, on the plus side, she has been involved with some of my favourite TV shows: Teachers, 20 things to do before you're 30 and This Life. Perhaps that would explain why I liked this book?
* said Claudia, who'd been practising and had a feeling she might be allowed to get away with it at that moment. 'Isn't he, Mum?' Sophie laughed despite herself. 'Yes, sweetheart, he is a bit. And don't say that word.'
It was whilst rooting through a box of old toys that I started to contemplate the mechanics of time travel. Plus, I'd just watched Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home in which Kirk and crew travel back in time in an old Klingon Bird of Prey to bring two humpback whales to their present to save Earth from the deadly transmissions of an orbiting probe.
Time travel, you see, is like travelling through a Slinky. When one enters the time stream, the most probable timeline spirals away directly ahead. However, glance left or right, up or down, and one can - somewhat nauseatingly - observe other less probable timelines branching of the main line. The further away from dead ahead one looks, the more peculiar - and nauseating the experience - will be.
Try not to lose your balance and fall in, though, as it's a bugger attempting to get back to where you entered. Oh, and try not to vomit, too, as Temporal Puke is a sod to clear up as it spreads rapidly down the spirals.
Time is fleeting, so I shall just present you with this brief series of minor calamities that have plagued me (so far) this week:
Sunday, 18:57 - Rifling through the freezer looking for something to have for dinner, I thought I saw a bag of peas move all by itself. Poking the peas with a lolly revealed a pair of eyes peering back at me from behind a garlic baguette. It seems we have a very small yeti living in our freezer.
Monday, 19:17 - I hear a faint scream of pain as I cut a ciabatta in half. After checking that the SubCs are OK, I resume the cutting, thinking that I must have imagined it. Another scream puts paid to the imagination theory. After a very close inspection of the ciabatta, I discover that it is, in fact, just a bread product after all. Slamming the bread knife down in frustration reveals the whereabouts and identity of the screamer: There was a wood nymph in the chopping board! Tuesday, 03:46 - Three nannies land on the roof. How do I know this? Because of all the clattering and banging around, not to mention swearing that would make a sailor blush. And not one of them was as graceful as that evil witch Poppins. Moom was barking, SP was swearing and the gargoyles were lumbering about trying to avoid the errant nannies, scraping their stone feet, knuckles and tails across the tiles making a noise similar to, but louder than, fingernails scraping down a blackboard. In the far more civilised morning, Moom discovered a brolly wedged in the fireplace and proceeded to shred the fabric from the metal ribs, discarding it all over the living room floor. Wednesday, 17:33 - Get home from work to discover the landing carpet is very damp. Entering the bathroom provides the reason: Fishface has found out where I now live and taken up residence in the bath again! SP is understandably livid. Bloody naiads.
Thursday, 16:59 - Arrived home twenty minutes later than I'd hoped due to being waylaid by roadworks, only to find out that Svaathor has turned up early (I'd asked him to pop 'round to remove the naiad as he's experienced in such matters) and brought his (very hot) nephew and great niece. Stunned at Gathiir's incredible good looks and super-fit body (Gathiir is one of the more human-looking Centaurs - Two legs, two arms, but rather horse-like ears and a splendid tail!), I was oblivious to stepping in his daughter's poo until he somewhat apologetically pointed it out. It seems they'd turned up an hour and a half ago but little Calreed couldn't hold on longer than an hour and a quarter.
Friday, 07:56 - SP unwittingly found out where that manticore went a couple of weeks ago. "Where's the measuring jug?" he yelled from the kichen as I was moisturising in front of the mirror on the landing. "In the cupboard under the sink" I yelled back, wondering if I had time to pluck my eyebrows. "I've looked - It's not there" he replied a little testily. "It bloody is!" I countered, having put it back there after he left it out last month when he used it to fill his car's screen wash up. "It's at the back, behind your flask." I started downstairs then heard an almighty crash. "Fucking 'ell!" Careering down the rest of the stairs and into the hall, I saw SP brandishing the jug in the face of a now man-sized manticore admidst splintered shelves and bottles of cleaning products. "Rrrrrrrooooooooooowwwaaarrrrrhhhh!" the beast roared. With a very plasticky 'clonk', SP hit the manticore over the head with the jug. "Get out!" he almost screamed. Very surprisingly, the manticore put a very hurt and pathetic look on it's face and it's tail between it's legs before running out of the kitchen, through the sun room and out the front, across the road, disappearing amongst the trees. "Oh" I said, surveying the mess. "That's where it went."
And Today - To top it all off, that troll must have followed me home and has set up home under the stairs. I found it not an hour ago crouched behind the Dyson stuffing it's face with dog biscuits. I thought they'd been going rather quickly. Anyway, after everything else that's happened, I just sighed, closed the cupboard door and left it there. I'll warn SP about it later.
But just where in Christmas are all these minor deities and mythological monsters coming from? Did someone turn the Ley-lines up to eleven? What next? A Phoenix in the oven?
Is anyone else being persecuted by preposterous pests?
Last week, there was a troll under the bridge I use to cross the river and get to work. Luckily, it seemed only to be visible to Cusp dwellers, the undead, the almost undead (i.e. me) and goats* rather than the general public. I mean, can you imagine the uproar if commoners caught sight of a bloody troll? It'd be like Cloverfield all over again. Although on a slightly smaller scale...
Anyway, I first saw it on Thursday as I was crossing Riverside Road in front of the train Station. Luckily, it was just returning to it's lair under the Foundry bridge [image via] after trying to eat Fekxzl, the Aviva (nee Norwich Union) Hell Portal demon. Quite why it didn't eat him I don't know, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it may have been due to Fekxzl's personal hygiene. Or lack thereof. So, I obscured myself and crossed the bridge hoping that the troll would have moved on by the time I left work. It hadn't. I could see it lurking as I approached from Prince Of Wales Road. I was positive that it hadn't spotted me, so I obscured myself again and crossed the road hoping to get lost amidst a crowd of youths going the same way and make it safely to the other side. I almost made it, too. Almost.
It leapt up spitting and drooling, totally ignoring the tasty teenage delinquents (and in turn was ignored by them - After all, teenagers are more often than not far too self absorbed to notice anything other than themselves), fixating it's bloodshot gaze squarely at me. It gave me quite a start, let me tell you! I glanced around just in case it was glaring at someone (or something) else, but my immediate vicinity was devoid of troll-prey. Having no other choice, I confronted the slavering beast and, after much sidestepping to avoid the dripping slobber, convinced it to eat a couple of the teenagers who were at that point slouching around at the other end of the bridge. To be fair, they were horrible little monsters and quite probably were actual demon spawn.
What I didn't appreciate was being thanked by the troll - with it's mouth still full of teenager - for pointing out the young and tender option, rather than just letting it eat a tough and stringy looking me!
* Norwich, being slap bang in the middle of a farming county, still sees it's fair share of farm animals wandering the streets. Although, the main type of farmyard creature found at large here are ducks, rather than goats.
Is this really the first shock pic of post-30-days-of-yoga Tim? We knew he was becoming even more buff, but to this extent?
Tim's been surprisingly reticent to release photos of his new, yoga-enhanced physique, but with a modicum of judicious stalking, I have been able to capture this startling image. And, no, I don't quite know what's going on with all the stockings behind him. He must be practising for Christmas, or something? Anyway, you can read all about his 30 day challenge starting here. Beware though, there's farting, sweat-flicking and Tim's groin in Batman's face. Oh, and his arse in Captain Kirk's!
Today's the last day of his challenge, so maybe he'll treat us all to an official topless (and bottomless - although that may be pushing it) photo?
* crosses fingers *
Coming soon: You too can have a body like this - I'll show you how to stalk and kidnap your own buff yoga god!
Remember that manticore I found the other day? Well, today I happened upon something of a similar ilk. Somethings, in fact:
Leaving SP asleep in bed, I grabbed my glasses and water glass and went downstairs, blearily eyed, for some orange juice and a coffee to wake me up properly. In the kitchen, I tipped the remaining water from my glass away while reaching for the kettle, and heard a damp thud as something solid landed in the sink. Setting the glass down, I peered at the squirming fuzzy pink blob that floundered at the bottom of the sink. As I put my glasses on, the fuzzy blob came into focus making me draw in a sharp breath.
Oh, no! I thought. Not again. A Water-Baby infestation!
Glancing around the kitchen just confirmed it. They were everywhere! In the sink, the kettle, there were even two in Moom's water bowl! Good job I noticed before Moom came down wanting her breakfast otherwise she'd be in for a surprise. Although, her surprise wouldn't last for long as her hungry belly would override it and dig in. Even the lounge wasn't spared. There was one 'baby in a vase of flowers and another swimming around in the lemon squash SP had left next to the sofa last night.
At least they're not fairies, I told myself. Nothing is quite as pernicious as an infestation of fairies. Plus, Water-Babies are easier to get rid of as long as one catches them all. Grabbing a bucket, I set to tipping them out of their vessels, scouring the house to ensure I caught every last one of the little monsters. I was most surprised to find a couple in the dishwasher, lurking in the drainage chute alongside a chunk of celery and a few bits of onion. Gritting my teeth, I picked up the detestable little creatures by their toes, trying to block out their high-pitched squeals, and plopped them into the bucket along with the others. Satisfied that I'd got the lot, I took the bucket upstairs and tipped the whole lot into the loo, quickly slamming the lid down and flushing the chain.
Now all I have to do is find and pick up *shudder* all the tiny moist nappies that they'd left everywhere!
There was a manticore in the cake tin. A small one, mind, but still...
I opened the lid and a whirling ball of teeth, claws and posionous spines shot out straight for my face. Luckily, my reflexes hadn't taken the day off so I managed to duck and avoid the little monster whose face looked strangely familiar.
Gods only know where it is now, though. It shot across the kitchen, ricocheted off the oven door and disappeared behind the fridge. I would pull the fridge out to take a look but I'm rather concerned at what else may be lurking down there. Especially as it's been a while since SP has cleaned behind it.
Maybe it'll eat all the crumbs and teabags that I'm positive hibernate down there?
25. Getting rid of Matthew, by Jane Fallon.
