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[Previous entry: "Excuses"] [Next entry: "Planting chillies" ]


12 March 2003

Sunday morning, while I waited to be picked up, I ordered many varieties of chilli-seeds from a supplier in Grange over Sands. People crop up in the most unexpected places. So do sudden hobbies. I never was green-fingered, I could barely keep a plant alive until I found this little bay-tree in the supermarket. That started the herb garden in the back yard; then last year I murmured some vague romantic dream of growing chillies, and my friend Jess sent me a couple of packets of seed, and I was doomed. My only regret now is that I have only the two south-facing windows, and no space for a greenhouse. My only embarrassment is that all the varieties I mean to grow are hot, hot and superhot. Honestly, sometimes I'm such a boy...

And then it was up and off to my best friend Ian's new house with a couple of other mates, to help demolish a shed and barbecue before lunch. I was kind of possessive about the sledge-hammer, although it isn't actually mine. See above, under 'boy' - it is (I am told) unexpected in me, but I love demolition. No good at putting things up, but knocking 'em down just comes naturally. Who was that Frenchy/Russian anarchist fella who spoke about the creativity of destruction? Had a K or two in his name, but was not I think Kropotkin... [Actually I've just looked it up, and I find it's Bakunin: Die Lust der Zerstörung ist zugleich eine schaffende Lust! Well, I was right about the K...]

Ian and Carrie have also promised to let me demolish their front wall, soon as they're ready. Delenda est Carthago! Meanwhile I came home and smashed up the concrete coal-bunker in my back yard. Its days had been numbered for seven years already, which is altogether too high a number.

And today, Monday, I had to go to my physiotherapist and explain why my shoulders were so tight this morning, and why I couldn't answer her questions about what ached where on account of everything's aching everywhere. She said not a word, but Lord! she hurt me after. Elbows of carborundum, that woman, if carborundum is very hard and grindy. [I've just looked it up, and it is.]

And anyone complaining that today, Monday, is actually Wednesday: you are right. Been holding this one back while my website moved house. It has now settled in, unpacked its boxes and shelved its books, but we are operating on timelag here; I cannot now report on yesterday until tomorrow, and Lord only knows when I'll get to tell you about today.

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© Chaz Brenchley 2003
Reproduced here by permission of Chaz Brenchley, who asserts his moral right to be identified as the author of this work.