Monday, May 14, 2012

DSC_4370 [crop] - Through The Ritz BackwardsMy cousin's on Twitter. Therefore I've rummaged and discovered we have one mutual follow (and no mutual followers, just the same number of them). His stream is all football and swearing (and hangovers) [so what's mine? Weather and flowers and dawn and Carcasonne and politics and musicals and words and quirk and baking and mocking and corporate whorage and actual whorage and juxtaposition. Apparently]. I knew about the football. The swearing's probably the oddest thing. He only ever mumbles, head hanging, mouth open, shoulders hunched forward, and only opens up slightly near his younger sister. Some how it just seems so unlikely that he'd ever say "cunt!"

So I had a look at who he follows. They included such magnificent bios as "out injuried but still focased on my game" and [gibberish which I've just realised is Blackberry code].

All of which means we went to theirs yesterday. So BroSIL by Tube, while I drove ma pauvre mère up to nearly the Risk so she could pick up something from Jean le Wis's, while I sat waiting to get onto Piccadillyanydilly and then had to adlib to my uncle's (past Horrids, turn by the cruisy Tesco) because my mother took the A-Z with her (or actually just put it out of sight).

Driving's quite nice, except for the possess your soul in patience parts, but, well, you just have to be. It's bizarre how similar spring and autumn are in the colours of the trees, the toxins to prevent the new leaves being eaten showing before the chlorophyll forms to swamp them. But most of the trees are already creeping away from raw yellowness.

So I got to my uncle's at a reasonable time according to the dash, which is on GMT. Mummikins appeared hours later. We sat talking (I have half a brown face), wandered down to the river, sat talking outside, inside, a pub, wandered back losing an aunt along the way (how? You live here, and your children know the route, which sort of suggests it's not the first time they've walked it. Except their father is also largely their mother, though don't quote me on that).

Then more food and more talking, and Christmas presents.

By the way, if you don't know what Carcasonne is buy it and play it. Which is the point I decide that arbitrarily including every Tweeted subject would take too long for its arbitrariness level.


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