Avast!

What a spiffy old week I am having. After travelling down (technically up, but I can never get it right) to London, I spent a wonderful evening nursing a poorly Wide, who, having spent the previous few evenings loudly declaiming in his inimitable manner, had completely lost the power of speech, and was reduced to a gollum-esque whisper. Dear me. I dosed him up with medication, dumped him in the bath, and burnt dinner, ending up with a beige sauce instead of a white one, but nonetheless, I'm still in the good books!
The next day I had the great pleasure of meeting up with Lard and Shinke for a yummy dinner at wagamamas, where I marvelled at the levels of food colouring in my fish protein bits nestling in my noodles. I'm sure there are some varieties of crab that are neon pink, but they don't tend to retain this attribute when cooked and re-formed. Why is this supposed to make it more appetising, one wonders?
Excitingly, I also got to see the second half of the extended edition of Return of the King... which was great, and, as those of you who know a little of my LOTR obsession may gauge, pant-wettingly exciting. Except for the interminable ending, which was unexpurgated and as incredibly boring as ever. Like an orchestra finishing Mozart's horn concerto by dropping their instruments and blowing limp raspberries at each other.

On Tuesday, I went shopping, and having spent far too much money on other people in the past few weeks, decided to treat myself to a few goodies for Sunday, which, as some of our swelling readership may be aware, is the 1 year anniversary of Wide and I's first meeting. In person. Less on that later. Huzzah! Much fun will be had, I'm sure.

Even better, on Saturday, my excellent younger sister, Floppy, has curtailed her round-the-world jaunt to come back to the roost. I will be steaming up from Brighton to indulge in much storytelling and gossip when she arrives at Heathrow. And also lashings of big hugs.

Must dash, as the lovely S the Snapper has prepared me a super supper of aubergines and other yummy things... which is wafting enticingly in from the kitchen. Mmmmmm.... lucky me!

Ouch

I (almost) had an infinitely productive week. It would have been if I hadn't had a painful and embarrassing mini-op on Thursday, which rendered me immobile for most of the adjoining dates between now and then. If I hadn't had my loyal and long suffering friend S the snapper with me to offer me succour and soup, I'm really not sure I would have managed at all. The delightful lass not only came to pick me up from the hospital in a taxi, but also trooped round all of sunny Brighton's pharmacies searching for a prescription, two thirds of which, alas, proved elusive, one third not being in stock anywhere, and the other having gone out of production.

So, I have now repaired to the suburban hinterlands of Kingston for a little RnR with the family. Last night, I met up with two old, misplaced, and very lovely friends at a dinner party, who in a similar vein of pseudonyms, shall hereafter be referred to as Tipples and WonderWoman. Being slightly older than me, they provide an effective gauge as to where I should be in two years time. Suffice to say, it's moderately intimidating- nice jobs, own accommodation, fulfillment, goodness me. A lot to get done.
We had a good old chat about the Live8 concerts continuing across the globe. WonderWoman, having traveled extensively, has quite a good handle on development issues, and she and I were marveling at the sheer scale of what needs to be achieved in order to facilitate equality and social justice. Tipples, however, summed it all up for us by telling us the parable of the starfish, which I have summarised below:

The Parable of the Starfish
An old man was walking along the ocean shoreline one morning after a very high tide. As he wandered he noticed thousands of starfish that had been washed ashore and he realized that they would die if they were not returned to the sea. But there were so many, there was no way to save them.
He looked up from the sand and in the distance he saw someone bending, reaching, then standing and tossing something into the sea.
He approached, and realized that a child was methodically grasping a starfish and throwing it into the ocean, repeating the gesture again and again. The old man stopped the child and asked, "Why are you bothering? There are miles and miles of beach and thousands and thousands of starfish. You can't possibly make a difference."
The child looked at the old man, bent down, grasped another starfish, tossed it gently to the sea and replied, "But it made a difference to that one."

It was a lovely evening. Plus, not having seen my friends for a good while, it meant I had the chance to go on at length about the brilliance, attractiveness, talent and kindness of Wide, and the rambling, relatively romantic manner of our meeting; a topic which I always enjoy expanding upon. Wide, at this point, is quite hoarse, having discovered the pitfalls of open-air theatre on the first night. He had to give interview for BBC Northampton this morning, and apparently sounded like Yoda (but of course, with a revised understanding of grammar). Dear me. Of course, I know a little bit about what he means, having had to contend with amplified instruments for a while. Usually on finishing a long set, I sound like Barry White for ten minutes. This can occasionally be used to good effect.

Oh my. I must sign off now as my wonderful little brother, Puke, is giving me a lovely shoulder rub. How many 15year old boys would do that? Hurrah!