The weird and wonderful workings of the mind – In the name of Thiago – Day 158



Or to put it more accurately – the weird and wonderful workings of my mind, as let’s face it there’s no-one else to blame for the insanity that lurks within my bonce.

Last night I dreamt of waking up. I find this ridiculous. I hardly ever get to dream and when I do, I dream of the dream ending. This is a time when I’d like my teenage imagination back again. In those days I dreamt of somehow bumping into a heavily perspiring Gabriela Sabatini at Devonshire Park. That’s the Eastbourne tennis event I used to cover for the Eastbourne Herald and the BBC back in my journalistic days.

Ah yes Gabi. It’s probably a treasonable offence admitting this now –
while being married to an equally beautiful if not more so Brazilian – to have had such yearnings for this magnificent Argentinian, but there it is. I cannot deny that it was so.



The only memorable dream I’ve really ever had and can speak of freely in a public domain, also connects to South America. It’s extremely specific shall we say. I dreamt that I was a Paraguayan high jumper at the Mexico City summer Olympics and that I won a silver medal.

The only thing that prevented me from winning gold was the fact that I had milk bottles stuck to my nostrils, which were a terrible imposition as you might imagine. I dunno, maybe the altitude played its part too…



I went shopping last night after I’d spent a good hour having a yarn with my wonderful friend Jim and as much as it can be during lockdown, or whatever we’re calling this partial lockdown now, it was a calm experience. There were no queues when I arrived and I even found myself feeling comfortable with turning back to an aisle or two to find items that I’d overlooked on my first lap.

No matter how often I shop, and it does tend to be me that does the shop, there will always be items that I’ll never write on the list or won’t think of. Custard tends to fall into that category, and isn’t likely to leave it after I got home to unpack and found that, nope, we definitely didn’t need any.



Neither did I need onions, we have about a dozen now and they’re not tiddlers either. I definitely did need soft cheese and crisps and got neither. They didn’t have any broccoli, which I suppose is the downside of an evening shop. Oh yes that and all the intriguing personalities that tend to stop by a budget town centre supermarket of an evening.

But I have to say, on the balance of availability of products, lack of queues and not being completely swamped with weirdos, I’d probably do it again.



I did manage to land some yoghurts last night and look at this beauty. I’m quite partial to a yoghurt and rhubarb is the king of yoghurt flavours for me. It’s such a magnificent thing, quite the royalty of yoghurt flavours I’d say. Sumptuous indeed.

I had some slightly disappointing news today as well. It was an email from the managing director of International Decorative Surfaces to say that he wasn’t able to approve my proposal of a corporate sponsorship arrangement. It was very kind of him though to send his condolences on the loss of my son although the bastard could also have done with sending the fundraiser a few quid! Bastard.

Hey ho. However, I know I can call upon you, kind readers, to help the cause. I daresay you’ve probably done so already but just in case you haven’t, here’s the place to donate. Good on you.

Shit just remembered I forgot the meatballs too. Elisa's not going to be happy...



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