cans, worms and other topics
I want to keep on the body image topic, I do, I do - I'm loving reading the comments and hearing tales of the tall and fair. But I'm not sure how much I can add without turning the UB into a diet blog, something I've assiduously avoided, and anyway I have other things to blog about too. This is a bit of a stream of consciousness effort though so you never know weighty matters might surface again in a few paragraphs' time.
Do I have any female readers based in London I wonder? I am organising a Mexican Sunday in mid-July. A group of pals, pals who don't know each other very well, if at all and only through me - is meeting up outside the Tate Modern to have a Mexican-themed picnic and then we're off to look at Frida Kahlo's finest. Very excited indeed. Have become Welsh. As Eddie Izzard would say. Anyway, this is an odd way to say - join us! (But only if you are of the female persuasion and in London, no teleporting males please.) Send a stamped addressed e-mail to the usual address, now visible at the top of the screen.
Miracle number 3. In my delivery from the evil supermarket - whose name I shall not mention since to shop there is to feel shame, but I only ever buy things I can't get at the market, honest - I received an unordered bonus, Jordan's Special Luxury Muesli. Someone up there knows exactly what I want and seems to be taking great pleasure in ensuring that it arrives gratis, first the bucket, then the rocks and now a breakfast cereal I would never buy because it is too damn expensive. It is sitting on top of the cupboard waiting for the weekend when I shall take infinite pleasure in eating some with Yeo Valley Organic yoghurt as a special decadent treat. TA has asked me to buy a lottery ticket this week.
Today, as I was walking to and from work, I saw a busker quite unlike any other. He was playing a flute/recorder-type hybrid reasonably tunefully and wearing - well, he was wearing black leather: a black leather cap, studded black leather shorts and a studded black leather waistcoat, oh, and big black leather boots! I very nearly gave him money and if I had had some I almost certainly would have acted on the impulse. He looked so threatening but in slightly camp way and the gap between the clothes and the fey, dainty instrument, not to mention the comedy associations (if only he'd been playing Edelweiss), it was too glorious for words.