Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Reading The Naked Civil Servant Whilst Naked

So yes. Holiday.

I am currently housesitting down in Brighton for a delicious friend of mine, with my only daily tasks being to make sure the two cats get fed, and not to spoil the order of his 'Tenko' DVDs. The Lord God Cher only knows why he trusted me to do this, although I may have spectacularly failed to mention that the last place I housesitted for, I left the kitchen completely covered with choking black ash after I set the cooker on fire after over-grilling my Linda McCartney's. I blamed the fact that the whole room looked like Pompeii on several children having a bonfire a few days earlier and I had the windows open, but unless they'd actually lit it in the breakfast nook, there was no other way the devistation would have been as bad as a Michael Bay film. Only one of the couple is now speaking to me, and that was after a ten year gap. And clearly the lesson I've taken away from this is vegetarianism = bad fire.

So what essentially I have for a week is a holiday cottage that is blissfully stocked with Items Of Interest that you wouldn't get in a hotel room. There's swathes of DVDs I want to watch and classic tomes on the shelves just waiting to be read. And each one has divine little personal touches; I opened 'The Naked Civil Servant' to find a postcard bookmark from an old friend professing gratitude for a long-ago task. This very computer on which I type in the office is a wondrously rickety old machine with the 'L' missing on the keyboard - to get the letter, I've been using the flat of a knife to press down into the inner workings of the machine. My fear of electrocution is not as great as my fear of having to write something in Welsh, which uses the letter far too much as I discovered yesterday when I sliced open my index finger when sending a missive to my friend in Cardiff. I'm now consciously steering clear of the letter as much as possible.

Anyway, I'm having a marvelous time so far, taking my camera out and wandering the beach and the streets, taking shots of holidaymaking Britons wearing 'Kiss Me Quick' hats and looks of utter bewilderment that the sun's actually out. There is one downside - none of my mates are around until the weekend so I am turning into a bit of an old lady with no-one to talk to but her cats. Perhaps I should venture out down the bars and try make new friends, although Brighton is full of 'crusties' - it's like Camden-on-Sea. My self-imposed isolation will have to take into account that if I ultimately need to talk to someone, chances are it'll be one of them. I'm sure they're lovely people as you don't mind the smell of the dredlocks, and can stomach seeing grown men juggle.

1 comment:

David said...

Holiday cottaging sounds such fun, hope you're not lonely too much longer. Maybe put up a small sign?