Over coffee this morning, I came up with the first line of a best-selling book (to be made into a film) set in the sweaty world of professional boxing:
I knew that I was in the presence of a future world champion when I returned to the dressing room where I had left him alone, to find he had tied up his own gloves.
Ok, I will not be giving up the day job.
What would you consider to be a good death? The Aztecs thought that having your heart torn out by a shaman and your body thrown down the vertiginous steps of a stone pyramid was one of the best. I am selfishly hoping for a somewhat less painful one.
Without wishing to be flippant or disrespectful, two world wars interspersed with incessant violent conflict have made Remembrance Sunday feel like all the other Sundays in the UK before they allowed shops and pubs to open during the day. I suppose it is supposed to be melancholic, but it makes me dread the following Monday as if I was going back to school.
I had a dream last night where I had spent quite a lot of time in a strange town, miles away from home. I suddenly remembered that my mother would be wondering where I was, or thinking that I had forgotten about her all together. I looked for my mobile phone to call her, but I had lost it. There was nothing for it but to make the long journey to see her face to face.
Like I say, I am feeling a little melancholic today. I will cheer myself up by finding a recipe for 'Nun's Farts' and have them for tea.
Just in case - like me - you wondered what nun's farts look like, I have posted up a picture.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry that you're having the blues. Whatever it takes to cheer yourself up, have at it. (Nun's farts...how earthy.)
ReplyDeleteI used to have dreams of finding my dear dead cat, Woody Robinson, alive and well, and I would exclaim my joy at seeing him after all this time and make him promise me to never hide away again. I would hold him and hear him purr and feel so elated...and then I'd wake up, and still feel a little left-over bliss from having been visited by my best friend, if only in a dream. A good death would be for me to experience the comfort of Woody's company as my brain fires its final synapses.
I have had dead friends visit me in dreams many times. My parents went one step further, and visited me in the flesh.
DeleteNun's farts seem identical to donut holes, down to the equator ring where they were flipped to fry on the other side.
ReplyDeleteDeath has been on my mind too often, lately. I think my choices are stroke or heart attack, and I will prefer the former. I've done it once already, and it's as simple as gliding backwards, seeing the world become more and more dim. And, in the past I woke up in the hospital, shot up with clot busters. It was extraordinarily fascinating while it progressed.
I used to think a heart attack would be good, but now I think it would be far too sudden and unexpected, leaving no time to tie up loose ends. I will settle for the 5 year likelihood of prostate cancer, given the choice.
DeleteNo, that end is rough. Tie up for the next ten years and then pick an easy way.
DeleteThere is no easy way.
DeleteI wonder, why in all these years, John has never blogged about nun's farts.
ReplyDeleteI think he might have done, or maybe it was Cro - or me.
DeleteI have just arrived in Malaga. I shall have more than a nun's fart tonight
ReplyDeleteSweet Malaga wine... I envy you.
DeleteAnd the award for best blog title goes to....
ReplyDelete... some Frenchman who invented the confection...
DeleteDo try this at home (Cro...): http://www.geniuskitchen.com/recipe/pete-de-soeur-nuns-farts-497772
ReplyDeleteActually, the farts in this recipe look very like Pain au Raisin. I prefer the look of the above.
DeleteI'd rather have 'pets de Soeurs' than 'pets de Moines'.
ReplyDelete