Thanks to all the people who haven't asked me why my parsnip didn't appear earlier. And when I say parsnip I mean "post". And when I say all the people I mean "nobody". It was meant to be a scathing indictment of everyday sexism in Church life, but I realised that the way I wrote it, remarking that the only jobs exclusive to men these days are bishops and drag queens, could have been taken as implying there was no difference between the two jobs. And I didn't mean to do that. After all, a woman could probably make a pretty good drag queen.
No, I've been working too hard. It's Kirsty's birthday next Wednesday, and I've been monitoring the all-night efforts to make endless empty bunches. Benches. And then I've had the six-months expenses receipts to check over in the hope there might be some valid ones. Then had to burn them all on the Steve. I mean Stove. Unfortunately, earlier on I thought I meant Steve. No wonder he was so annoyed, after I shoved those fire lighters in his trousers.
Looking back, I'm beginning to realise it's a while since I had a day off. Thinking about it, it may have been last April. I spent the day reading some back-copies of "Bunty" and watching Lord of the Rhinos. And when I say "Rhinos", I do of course mean "Reggies". I mean, "Rings". But then when I was planning to take last Tuesday off, I remembered there was a all day Primal Screaming course down in Dune. I mean, Dunstable.
So I'm thinking maybe take tomorrow off? We've Perrin Out of Beakers, of course. So I can just do that first. Followed by Worship in the Cultic Style, from the Wee Woo Worship Book. Then Muttons. No, Muttons and then the Cutlet Style woo ship. I'm getting a bit confused here. And so by about half-twelve I can maybe nap off to rust somewhere quietly. Nip off to rust somewhere quietly, I mean.Though I've got to get back for Complain. And when I say "Complain", I do mean "Complain". That's all the Beaker Folk do in the evenings - complain I'm always buzzy, and when they do see me I'm always extinguished.
Me thinks that you've been at the Beaker Cider or Sherry, because your mixed up words make sense to a delirious older person, who while not addicted has fond memories of the days before he became teetotal.
ReplyDeleteThe problem with a reformed tippler is that the ongoing brain damage incurred through years of enjoyment seems to hang around.
So, take a day off from the beverages and you will be as right as rain.
Dare I suggest a lavender-scented tealight? But yes, sometimes napping off for a rust is the only remedy. If you've any dragons left from Michaelmas you could post one outside the door to ensure you're not disturbed (though the dragon itself might be somewhat disturbing of course...) But rust assured your parsnips are always worth waiting for!
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