Tuesday, 3 January 2012

Meandering, maundering, malingering and making

The car service was done today, so now I can get the car registered. As I did not have a lift home, I decided to while away the hours at the nearest shopping centre. I have not been there for ages, so it seemed like a good opportunity to browse around looking at things I should not buy.

Naturally I went to the book shop, which is having a sale, but the city store has much better pickings, so I did not buy any books. This caused feelings of virtue to froth away in my breast. Then I browsed at a pharmacy which sells the brand of makeup I have been accustomed to buy. I left it all in the shop, so that I can better afford the legal bills. Next I carefully perused the range of ice creams, but resisted the temptation. I tried on a dress, but we did nothing for each other.

It then occurred to me that here I was, stuck for several hours, and that this presented me with the opportunity to see a film. The Iron Lady was on, so it seemed a good idea to see it, as Meryl Streep is such a wonderful actress. In case sustenance was needed, I succumbed to evil temptation, and bought a packet of chips, and a drink. Another bright light started flashing in my brain, which suggested to me that it might be chilly in the cinema. I found a place which sold cheap but nice shawls, for a mere $20, so now have another to add to my already substantial collection, in an amazing array of colours, patterns and fabrics. And I bought a pair of purple socks. (They can be very hard to find.)

The film allegedly started screening at 12.15, but it actually did not commence until 12.30. A very disparate progression of shorts and ads were inflicted on the hapless audience. I now know that there are a number of films which can safely be avoided. There was an ad to tell you to avoid too much exposure to the sun, so as not to develop a melanoma. That made me want to leap to my feet and tell the unwitting audience about the melanoma on my bottom, which has probably never seen the sun at all. But I resisted the temptation. They all had a narrow escape, though.

I liked the film, although I was never keen on Mrs Thatcher. We had our own John Howard, who has just just been given the Order of Merit. Meryl Streep gave a wonderful performance, very moving as she flickered in and out of dementia and forgetfulness. This is still very close to the bone, for me.

In the middle of the film my mobile rang. It was the car service people telling me that my car was ready. It was a naughty thing, to leave it on, but I had it ready to grab, and switch it off, and I ducked out of the theatre to ring them back.  I transmitted silent apologies to the afflicted audience.

Having eaten quite a lot of the chips, it seemed a good idea to walk back to the car place, rather than take the bus for three whole stops. So I did. I had prosciutto and salad for dinner - and wine. I dusted the lounge, and cleaned some windows. Then I resumed the latest crochet project. I am a bit worried that it might be too big, although my tension is correct. Should I pull it all out and make the smaller size, I wonder? As I wondered, I came across a knot in the ball.

Aarrgh! this sort of thing happens all too often. I complained to the wool shop the other day about too many knots in balls of yarn and they told me the acceptable knot rate is two (2!) per ball. That is two too many.

No wonder people have nervous breakdowns. Things like knots in balls of wool are the straws that break the camel's back.

4 comments:

Frogdancer said...

Sounds like a lovely day.

Isabelle said...

Ah, the knot in the wool is a metaphor for life. Or something...

persiflage said...

Yes, Isabelle, I have enough knots in life without there being knots in the wool. Double double, toil and trouble....

Meggie said...

I hated knots in wool when I was younger. My mother taught me how to splice the wool, so you could not see the join. It was partly for thrift too, as it seemed wasteful to just cut it apart.
I like Meryl Streep too, and have thought I would like to see that film, though I had not much admired Mrs Thatcher!