The musings of a farmer's market casual employee...
There is a guesthouse called the Noble Grape and I have often wondered at the title, pictured a grape resplendent in battle dress, slaying grape enemies and bestowing grace when its conscience demanded so. As I stand here, in the echo and re-echo of beep beep scanners, and the orders of military matriarchs organising their familial rabble, "You fetch a box, you pack out, you pack in, out the way, stand aside, no, the heavier stuff goes first, shit! I forgot the cheese, you get a block o'cheddar..." I begin to question the possibility of a savage potato. Can a potato truly be savage, perhaps if you consider an older one that has been kept in the dark (literal dark, as in not keeping the identity of its real parents from it, or the state of its credit card debt) so that it has become a little green, soft and possesses several unseeing eyes. No, this strikes me more as a once reliable potato that due to neglect has become a little madcap. Well, a daikon is definitely not a contender, more a monk of the oblong vegetable variety, a cloistered parsnip, if you will. Perhaps a parsnip then, no cliche`. As P has rightly pointed out in a previous entry, a parsnip is naught but an albino carrot and I will not have it suffer the reputation incited by fiction of novel and screen genres, where those who are a little short on pigment are the seething pimples of blunt and foul evil. So the parsnip is not savage, just misunderstood. "They are mushrooms, love," I am interrupted. Yes, I smile sweetly to indicate my gratitude and comprehension of well intended but redundant information. It says mushrooms on the bag. I am still required to to peer into the bag to identify the type of fungus. Ah, the androgynous button mushroom. Bland in texture, colour, shape and taste, though pop them in a hot pan with some butter and a good dash of nutmeg and they gain a lovely distinction. They are also fabulous in beef stroganoff - 'Oh those Russians'. Ah, the parsnip - of course! Purple war paint around its gills and a stark tuft of foliage, stiffened no doubt by the vegetable blood of countless vegetable sacrifices offered in appeasement of the vegetable gods. All in vain, for it shall be plucked from the earth, washed, trimmed and transported, paraded and sold, cooked and et! And if not, then woe betide the savage turnip that crosses that noble grape.
"That comes to $175.00, thank you. And which account is that on?"
Monday, February 28, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
A letter to my love
first my I say congratulations on landing the role of the new Superman for the new movie next year and also the main role of Theseus in the upcoming film Immortals. I'm sure you must be very excited.
I'm just writing this letter to let you know that although you have been dubbed 'The Unluckiest Man in Hollywood' this will soon cease to be. Your career is taking off and I think your love life will be as well. You see Henry, it is my humble yet educated opinion that we should be married. I have a number of reasons why we would be perfect together and I have it all planned out so you don't need to worry about anything.
The first reason being that I am completely in love with you. Quite simple really. I think you are a very talented actor, you seem very nice in interviews, I think your drop dead gorgeous and you look very good in a suit. I wouldn't say I'm incredible to look at but I'm a bit of alright, I'm interesting and educated and a very genuine person so I think you can definitely grow to love me. I've also been a fan for a while so I'm not just jumping on the fame band wagon. I loved you before you were super famous, please keep that in mind.
So here's how it's going to go down. We will meet when I go to England next year and you will be so enamoured, even in the short time that I'm there, that you will follow me back to Western Australia. I will take you on a tour of the lovely South West and you will love all my family and friends. I think then you might fly me back to London so I could be your date to a premiere of something. Then maybe to Paris for the proposal? No too cliché. The cliffs of Dover should do. We would be married in Australia of course (just a simple ceremony) and then move to London. I presume that's where you live I haven't actually checked that. I could teach maybe in a remedial school or even at Eton. So you would have your work and I would have mine and we would have plenty of time in the school holidays to hang out and do whatever it is married people do.
Henry I know we could love each other I really do think we'd be great. I promise I'm a fun person and I'm from Australia so that's got to be worth something right?
Please get back to me soon
P
Monday, February 14, 2011
A new friend
OK so I just went to the toilet and as I was sitting there I noticed a tiny skink on the floor. He was probably smaller than my pinky finger and absolutely adorable. He had big eyes and big sticky feet. I was thinking he could be my new friend. Everytime I went to the toilet he'd be sitting there somewhere and I could have pretend conversations with him. I could even give him a name. Maybe Fred, Fred is quite cute for a skink and seemed to suit him but I thought it a little boring. I could come up with something later. I bet he would even eat bugs which is great because I'm not keen on spiders so I need a replacement predator to eliminate the bugs if I manage to eradicate all the spiders. My little new friend would become a real character in my life. And then as he crawled under the door I realised that he will most likely be eaten by the cat tomorrow and I'll never see him again.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Dear ...,
Dear Friends,
Our sincere apologies for the blog silence that has pervaded over the Christmas season. I have read some of our latest blogs and I have noticed that many have been motivated by unquiet feeling, be it anger, despair, umbridge, indignance ect. Thus it was decided to wait for some inspiration from more serene ponds, I did not anticipate, however, that these ponds are frozen solid during Christmas. Closed for the summer. Guarded by snipers. Surrounded by a ring of poison tipped barb wire, land mines, a moat of nuclear waste, the living room of Bret Michaels. Only accessible through a soul sucking black hole. In North Korea. Does this mean I am old and jaded, a better looking Scrooge aiming my stake 'o holly at the 'eart of every fool wiv merry Christmas on 'is lips. Has the childhood brilliance that shone at Christmas vanished? Bugger - tangent, what I am trying to say is that what follows here will celebrate love, the little feathers that tickle my fancy.
Dear Sensible and Charming Cafe's,
I would like to raise my cup of tea to you in a toast that commends your selection of lovely cookies, lovely in size, lovely in taste and lovely in price. I am tired of the over-sized, androgynous, mass produced and exorbitant discs with receding chocolate fringes, carefully displayed in glass specimen jars and standing as a monument of a consumer society which is willing to sell out on the joys of small delights. (I have done it again, soz, - happy blog, happy blog, happy blog...). I love it when I am given the option to choose a ginger nut or a macadamia short bread or a chocolate chip or a Bavarian sugar cookie or that dark horse, the ANZAC (it's even healthy because they have oats in them) or a passion fruit delight that really does satisfy and is enough for three polite mouthfulls. I have even found some establishments that sell them three for a dollar and a half, brilliant! One for me, one for my friend, another for later - handy should it become necessary for me to bribe a small child. So, I would like to thank you special Cafe with your sensible cookie diameter and sensational cookie taste, you have made little moments of my life splendid and you make me happy.
S.
Dear anyone involved with casting for films,
Could I please recommend to you the legs of Rupert Penry Jones. They are long and lean and masculine and look strapping in a pair of britches. They are perfectly suited to roles that require period costuming, especially if boots are involved. If a lot of running is required mister R. Penry Jones is certainly your man, whether he is chasing a fast horse that has run away with the woman he loves, or is being chased by a corrupt official of the law, angry because his girlfriend has become distracted by what would be Ruppie's character's elegant movement, he is up to the task. Plus he can act. Plus you have a definite audience, me and all of my friends (well, all those of the female persuasion). Plus you don't even need to audition for the role of the female character because I will do it for free. Plus he has nice legs, two of them.
Can I thank you in advance for your careful consideration,
S.
Dear Mr. Matthew (V.) Goode,
A little while ago P, C, and our most frequent and welcome house guest, J, were watching a little quality television. It was "Celebrity Sexiest..." something a'rather (referring to some body part) on channel 'E'. You were not listed in their count down - idiots! However, you were given the chance to speak for an extended period of time about Johnathan Rhys Meyers bottom, and eventhough this topic is tasteless you spoke with such awesome eloquence that the general effect on the room was swoon. Now that I have begun this letter, I feel rather at a loss for words, because what I have to say is rather short. We love you. Just three words but spoken in truth. I would like to emphasise that this is not a sordid love elicited by your physique alone, we are none such base creatures. It is obvious that you are intelligent, witty, charming and kind hearted. You were wonderful in My Family and Other Animals and that episode of Miss Marple - see, we appreciate your acting ability as well. We would, however, like to suggest that you stick to roles that demand an English accent, brown to black hair worn in a slightly tussled fashion, with stylish, almost old world, dress sense. Not that you are not able to act well as an American or as a blond but these roles simply do not exhibit your finer points, your sleek muscular shoulders, your fine eyes and your sweet smile. Oh, and they are demeaning to your acting prowess as well. See this is true love, because no obsessed, silly girl, too immature to recognise for your talent would have the courage to show you where you can improve. I think that this is a sound basis for a relationship. The residents of this home humbly offer ourselves as friend and confidantes and perhaps something more (we would be willing to consider living as part of a harem). Just leave a comment at the bottom of the post to organise a meeting when you are next in this part of the world.
With boundless ardour,
S.
Dear Ms. Dawn French,
I have just finished reading your memoir and would like to dedicate this blog to you. I have thoroughly enjoyed the humour, I appreciate the stretch in my vocabulary and I admire the sensitivity with which you relate personal experiences. Most of all, I would like to thank you for the format of your book as every thought born in the last in the week has been addressed and mentally posted.
Thank you awfully,
S. (Just a pseudonym, don't worry)
Our sincere apologies for the blog silence that has pervaded over the Christmas season. I have read some of our latest blogs and I have noticed that many have been motivated by unquiet feeling, be it anger, despair, umbridge, indignance ect. Thus it was decided to wait for some inspiration from more serene ponds, I did not anticipate, however, that these ponds are frozen solid during Christmas. Closed for the summer. Guarded by snipers. Surrounded by a ring of poison tipped barb wire, land mines, a moat of nuclear waste, the living room of Bret Michaels. Only accessible through a soul sucking black hole. In North Korea. Does this mean I am old and jaded, a better looking Scrooge aiming my stake 'o holly at the 'eart of every fool wiv merry Christmas on 'is lips. Has the childhood brilliance that shone at Christmas vanished? Bugger - tangent, what I am trying to say is that what follows here will celebrate love, the little feathers that tickle my fancy.
Dear Sensible and Charming Cafe's,
I would like to raise my cup of tea to you in a toast that commends your selection of lovely cookies, lovely in size, lovely in taste and lovely in price. I am tired of the over-sized, androgynous, mass produced and exorbitant discs with receding chocolate fringes, carefully displayed in glass specimen jars and standing as a monument of a consumer society which is willing to sell out on the joys of small delights. (I have done it again, soz, - happy blog, happy blog, happy blog...). I love it when I am given the option to choose a ginger nut or a macadamia short bread or a chocolate chip or a Bavarian sugar cookie or that dark horse, the ANZAC (it's even healthy because they have oats in them) or a passion fruit delight that really does satisfy and is enough for three polite mouthfulls. I have even found some establishments that sell them three for a dollar and a half, brilliant! One for me, one for my friend, another for later - handy should it become necessary for me to bribe a small child. So, I would like to thank you special Cafe with your sensible cookie diameter and sensational cookie taste, you have made little moments of my life splendid and you make me happy.
S.
Dear anyone involved with casting for films,
Could I please recommend to you the legs of Rupert Penry Jones. They are long and lean and masculine and look strapping in a pair of britches. They are perfectly suited to roles that require period costuming, especially if boots are involved. If a lot of running is required mister R. Penry Jones is certainly your man, whether he is chasing a fast horse that has run away with the woman he loves, or is being chased by a corrupt official of the law, angry because his girlfriend has become distracted by what would be Ruppie's character's elegant movement, he is up to the task. Plus he can act. Plus you have a definite audience, me and all of my friends (well, all those of the female persuasion). Plus you don't even need to audition for the role of the female character because I will do it for free. Plus he has nice legs, two of them.
Can I thank you in advance for your careful consideration,
S.
Dear Mr. Matthew (V.) Goode,
A little while ago P, C, and our most frequent and welcome house guest, J, were watching a little quality television. It was "Celebrity Sexiest..." something a'rather (referring to some body part) on channel 'E'. You were not listed in their count down - idiots! However, you were given the chance to speak for an extended period of time about Johnathan Rhys Meyers bottom, and eventhough this topic is tasteless you spoke with such awesome eloquence that the general effect on the room was swoon. Now that I have begun this letter, I feel rather at a loss for words, because what I have to say is rather short. We love you. Just three words but spoken in truth. I would like to emphasise that this is not a sordid love elicited by your physique alone, we are none such base creatures. It is obvious that you are intelligent, witty, charming and kind hearted. You were wonderful in My Family and Other Animals and that episode of Miss Marple - see, we appreciate your acting ability as well. We would, however, like to suggest that you stick to roles that demand an English accent, brown to black hair worn in a slightly tussled fashion, with stylish, almost old world, dress sense. Not that you are not able to act well as an American or as a blond but these roles simply do not exhibit your finer points, your sleek muscular shoulders, your fine eyes and your sweet smile. Oh, and they are demeaning to your acting prowess as well. See this is true love, because no obsessed, silly girl, too immature to recognise for your talent would have the courage to show you where you can improve. I think that this is a sound basis for a relationship. The residents of this home humbly offer ourselves as friend and confidantes and perhaps something more (we would be willing to consider living as part of a harem). Just leave a comment at the bottom of the post to organise a meeting when you are next in this part of the world.
With boundless ardour,
S.
Dear Ms. Dawn French,
I have just finished reading your memoir and would like to dedicate this blog to you. I have thoroughly enjoyed the humour, I appreciate the stretch in my vocabulary and I admire the sensitivity with which you relate personal experiences. Most of all, I would like to thank you for the format of your book as every thought born in the last in the week has been addressed and mentally posted.
Thank you awfully,
S. (Just a pseudonym, don't worry)
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