There will be hardly any speech marks in my posts ever again, because I am becoming increasingly unsure of when to use them. I have lost touch with the grammatical world, and it scares me, and so I am just going to back away from all of the rules that confuse me and just IGNORE it all. So, forgive me if things look a little non-edited. It is because they are non-edited. I might just use bold a lot. And maybe more italics.
My parents had their 49th wedding anniversary today. They are lovely. Here is a photo of them in Turkey, in their respective swim suit and funky holiday shirt:
Still married. Through teeth loss, four pesky children, campervan ownership and a vegetable patch, still they love each other. Apparently the Prime Minister of New Zealand came up and congratulated them, but I think that was less about the wedding anniversary and more about them being in the right place at the right time. Which brings me nicely around to my next Startling Bit Of News.
I saw The Queen Of England and Wales today, being driven with her husband through the Bayswater streets, looking not at all bothered. I got a bit excited when I realised the policemen on motor bikes (two at the front, two from behind) were not stopping traffic for something as dull as a car accident, but for the Queen of England and Wales. I waved, and jumped up quite a bit, and pointed out to all of the tired-looking tourists that the Queen of England and Wales was in that car. I don’t think they understood.
And last weekend, as you know, we went to the country. I only did a little bit of the dishes (rinsing the plates, a lot of mumbling about whether there was anything I could do to help, etc) and a fair amount of apologising for the Hugo Boss Sunglasses Incident. Which went like this:
1. Custard is excited about being in a new house
2. Custard is feeling a bit like he needs some attention
3. Custard spies some Hugo Boss sunglasses
4. Custard bends the frames and twists them until the lens pops out
5. Custard announces to everyone that he has broken my glasses (of course, they weren’t mine, as I have Marc Jacobs sunglasses) thus preventing me from shoving them down the back of the couch and denying all knowledge.
But other than that, and the one broken wine glass, and the screaming, they were mostly lovely, and the country was nice, if a little bit lacking in shops.
And then we get back here, and it is all a little bit cold and the flat is a bit tiny and there isn’t a helicopter landing pad in our backyard like where we were staying (yes! they had one!) so I went to the movies to cheer myself up. And what a horrible horrible mistake that was, because I went and subjected myself to Eat Pray Love. Gah! So foolish! So foolish. I came out with all of my fingernails bitten down to bleeding stubs. Julia made me do it. She made me eat my own fingers. Because it dulled the pain of watching her have middle class existential dramas about NOTHING! And going to an Ashram to do NOTHING! And to fill my head up with words like guru gitas and with scenes involving her communing with elephants! And to watch her make sexy eyes with a plate of spagetti! These are the lessons I learned from my night with Julia:
1. Hoops earrings are maybe worth trying because they looked nice against her blonde hair.
2. However, blonde is not always best, Ms Roberts. You look anaemic.
3. When on holiday to exotic climes, do not buy the local clothes and wear them because you will look like a midwife in batik scrubs (Bali, obvs), or an old school librarian (Italy) or a Gap year student who is well past her Gap year (India).
4. When you are wealthy, and successful, with a nice husband and a nice apartment, and you feel like weeping for no real reason, do not leave your nice husband. Go and be a volunteer, or talk to your doctor about a SAD light lamp. Go running. Little things. It is not the end of the world, spoilt white privileged lady. We all feel like that sometimes.
5. When Javier Bardem loves you, honestly, LET HIM. Yes, his face is a little wonky, but do not go mental and tell him that it will make your life unbalanced. Because it makes your audience EAT THEIR OWN FINGERTOPS IN ANNOYANCE.
I know that it isn’t actually Julia Roberts I should be disapproving of, but really. C’mon Julia. You let me down. What an outrageous pile of dogshit.
Gratuitous shot of Baby Ned to calm me down: