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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