I suddenly realised I hadn't turned over my compost heap for ages, and this is more fun than writing. So I picked up a garden fork and plunged it repeatedly into the plastic binful of decaying grapefruit rinds and garden rubbish. This is actually quite enjoyable, and a good way of venting frustration on (edited as vague attempt at professionalism).
Rah! In went the fork, a plunging stabbing frenzy of cathartic rage. Eventually my fury burned itself out, and I took the fork out, looking down inside the compost bin whilst heaving for breath, and gently steaming.
A small grey mouse was crouched in the corner of the bin, staring up at me with dark, liquid eyes, his tiny paws trembling slightly.
Oh god, I hope I haven't killed his family. I couldn't look. Slowly I replaced the lid on the bin, put the fork back in the shed, and went inside to find an email telling me (similar thing - you'll have to wait for the blue cat film*).
It is no more than I deserve. It is the shrew murder all over again.
On the plus side, I've been thinking for ages about this novel I want to adapt, and have just found out that because the author died umpty-tump years ago the rights have very recently passed out of copyright! Woo hoo!
Funny old thing, death.
UPDATE: I've been told this all looks a bit despondant, so I should point out I'm also doing quite a few fun writey things that I'm not currently able to talk about. Part of this is being able to watch a number of really quite revolting horror movies, and claim it as research. I can say no more.
UPDATE 2: the events of the day left me particularly vulnerable to this Death Cab video. Argh. Poor poor rabbits.
* Not an actual film.
21 comments:
Sorry James but to go back to your last post I am quite surprised you are so tall. For some reason I always pictured you as being small and cute...
That doesnt mean that you are not a cute 6ft 2"...
I'm just gonna stop now as this has no point and is starting to sound scary...
The mouse was small and cute. I was filled with rage, and then despair and guilt, so was neither. I've calmed down since.
They've been reading the comments on this blog about the chainsaw fight in Bob the Builder, haven't they?
I think all these strange and unsettling things - mice in compost, rowdy men in pools, logos on bums - are happening to you because you're really in a coma and are just visiting us from 2039. They have deep meanings that only you can fathom. You'll work it out in about eight posts from now.
I have spent quite a large portion of my life wondering if I'm trapped in a shit sitcom. It's gone from a chance remark in a pub to a serious existential crisis that keeps me up at night, staring at a shelfload of comics and plastic action figures, occasionally illuminated by the lights of a passing car shining through my thin curtains.
"No animals were left unharmed during the making of this programme"
I'd rather be trapped in a shit sitcom than not be trapped in a sitcom at all. At least there are frequent, if improbable, plot developments.
True. But no audience laughter, thank god. Maybe it's one of those 'not funny ha-ha' shows.
If it makes you feel any better, while I was cleaning out the bookdrops at work today, I saw a Bob the Builder movie in the bin and stared at it, evilly, for a full five seconds.
Probably.
Scary: it's more proof of your scary-power-over-foreigners.
Probably.
if life is a shit sitcom can i claim "are you being served", please?
ooh, ooh! a "shitcom"
*preens*
"Life is a shitcom, Miss Moneypenny, only a shitcom"
Bond, J (aged 007)
Just read about a Swedish study (by Finn Rasmussen) that men taller than 6 ft 4 in were two to three times more likely to obtain a higher education and have much lower risk of suicide than men shorter than 5 ft 4 in.
Didn't make you feel any better?
"scary-power-over-foreigners" goes on:
I have spent 1/3 of my holiday on reading your entire blog. Freaky.
That's because we have to go to a higher level of the building to throw ourselves off, then our correspondingly lower blood pressure makes us too dizzy to climb all the stairs, so we give up and have a cup of tea instead.
Although reading back, I'm shorter than 6ft 4, so maybe that doesn't apply.
Not sure whether to be cheered up or depressed. Also, I like to see holiday time well spent, congratulations.
my god its like you're geoffrey darma (or however he spells it)
Actually I've known three persons taller than 6 ft4. One was bullied at school. The other went mad and the third works in the factory. So I think that study is shit without any com. But then I don't live in Sweden, so I know nothing.
My eyes are bit sore and I was told I'm weird, but thanks.
My husband is 6ft 5in. He did achieve a high educational qualification but he tells he frequently feels suicidal*. But then he is married to me.
*Joke. Before you all go giving me sympathy.
I had thought that one of the things I wanted in New House was a compost heap. Am beginning to have second thoughts.
Noooo, compost heaps are good, and any New House should have one. I did put a piece of wire netting below mine, to stop micies getting in, but it's got shifted over the two years I've been there.
Wouldn't want to put you off - it practically halves the amount of rubbish one throws away, which has to be a good thing.
And it was a very cute mouse, although given the local stray cat's propensity for frenzied violence, I fully expect to find half a cute mouse very shortly on the back step...
When I say "in New House", I do of course mean "just outside New House". In case anyone gets the wrong idea about my standards of interior hygiene.
The halving-the-rubbish bit is the chief attraction for me, in all fairness. Can you get things these days that make them a bit less smelly? It's been a while since I lived in a house with an adjacent compost heap.
I think, as long as you avoid putting in cooked food, they shouldn't smell at all. I put plenty of shredded paper and newspaper in mine, which seems to help. Jane's 'Horticultural' blog, on the blogroll over to the right, is very good with this sort of stuff, and unlike me, I think she actually knows what she's talking about.
Excellent idea, thanks. To Horticultural it is...
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