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3/29/09 04:18 pm - For all occasions...
Birthdays and other occasions seem to be coming thick 'n' fast at the moment. Which provides Paul with the opportunity to have lots of fun making cards! Yay!
First up, here's one for my lovely friend and former fellow student Carly Greene, whose unofficial birthday was last night although the real one is tomorrow. Muchos fun was had by all at the Comedy Carnival in Clapham. The card is a not-in-the-least subtle reference to Carly's fondness for Pino Grigio.
And here's one for Mummy, last Sunday having been Mothers' Day (at least here in Britland). The allusion is to two of the strongest features of home life at Carney Towers; Mother's addiction to "cream horns" (why do they always make me think of Peter Cook..?) and the daily ritual of watching Bargain Hunt, with the one and only Tim Wonnacott. Honestly, if you haven't been compelled to watch the show as I have to on a daily basis as part of Quality-Time-with-the-Folks, you're missing out on a truly surreal experience. The contestants invariably have some dark secret, like belly-dancing, female impersonations or writing appallingly bad poetry, and demonstrate their skills whilst the delightfully OTT Mr W fixes the camera with his desperate "for God's sake get me OUT of here!" grin. Neither Mummy nor I has the slightest interest in antiques, but we hoot with laughter as the hapless contestants buy a load of rusty old tat from the market stalls and go on to make humungous losses at auction, while Mr W rolls his eyes in despair. Though he always rallies by the end of the show and exhorts us, with an impressive high kick that will one day land him flat on his arse, to "join us again soon for some more Bargain Hunting, yes? YES!!!"
And here's one for my adorable friend Emma, who was most unusually in the country for her birthday a couple of weeks back. The reference here is to an incident last year when I was due to go out on a "dating" situation at an Indian restaurant in the baddest and most inadequately lit part of Peckham. Getting hopelessly lost and/or injured would have made a poor impression on my "date" (who was already noticeably underwhelmed by my endearing habit of colliding with lampposts and other lurking obstacles), so lovely Emma came to the rescue and offered to take me there on a practice run a couple of days in advance. Now usually Emma can make herself virtually invisible at will, which was sort of what I had in mind, as I was due to reappear there two nights later with a different woman. Sooo, imagine my alarm when she showed up in a radioactive hat and engaged the staff in a half-hour conversation about Indian cooking. Sure enough, on the Big Night, I was getting some odd looks from one of the waitresses, who asked my "date" "do you know about Indian cooking too?" which I assume is girl-code for "he's two-timing you, the bastard!" Actually it was a really nice restaurant, but there's no way I would ever have found my way to it through the Wasteland without Emma's uncanny route-finding skills.
First up, here's one for my lovely friend and former fellow student Carly Greene, whose unofficial birthday was last night although the real one is tomorrow. Muchos fun was had by all at the Comedy Carnival in Clapham. The card is a not-in-the-least subtle reference to Carly's fondness for Pino Grigio.
And here's one for Mummy, last Sunday having been Mothers' Day (at least here in Britland). The allusion is to two of the strongest features of home life at Carney Towers; Mother's addiction to "cream horns" (why do they always make me think of Peter Cook..?) and the daily ritual of watching Bargain Hunt, with the one and only Tim Wonnacott. Honestly, if you haven't been compelled to watch the show as I have to on a daily basis as part of Quality-Time-with-the-Folks, you're missing out on a truly surreal experience. The contestants invariably have some dark secret, like belly-dancing, female impersonations or writing appallingly bad poetry, and demonstrate their skills whilst the delightfully OTT Mr W fixes the camera with his desperate "for God's sake get me OUT of here!" grin. Neither Mummy nor I has the slightest interest in antiques, but we hoot with laughter as the hapless contestants buy a load of rusty old tat from the market stalls and go on to make humungous losses at auction, while Mr W rolls his eyes in despair. Though he always rallies by the end of the show and exhorts us, with an impressive high kick that will one day land him flat on his arse, to "join us again soon for some more Bargain Hunting, yes? YES!!!"
And here's one for my adorable friend Emma, who was most unusually in the country for her birthday a couple of weeks back. The reference here is to an incident last year when I was due to go out on a "dating" situation at an Indian restaurant in the baddest and most inadequately lit part of Peckham. Getting hopelessly lost and/or injured would have made a poor impression on my "date" (who was already noticeably underwhelmed by my endearing habit of colliding with lampposts and other lurking obstacles), so lovely Emma came to the rescue and offered to take me there on a practice run a couple of days in advance. Now usually Emma can make herself virtually invisible at will, which was sort of what I had in mind, as I was due to reappear there two nights later with a different woman. Sooo, imagine my alarm when she showed up in a radioactive hat and engaged the staff in a half-hour conversation about Indian cooking. Sure enough, on the Big Night, I was getting some odd looks from one of the waitresses, who asked my "date" "do you know about Indian cooking too?" which I assume is girl-code for "he's two-timing you, the bastard!" Actually it was a really nice restaurant, but there's no way I would ever have found my way to it through the Wasteland without Emma's uncanny route-finding skills.
6 Day Riot; Go Canada
chipper
lonely
creative
