I JUST BOUGHT AN APPLE-SHAPED "TERRANIUM" FULL OF PLANTS. Because I had £10 and didn't want to spend it on drugs... It cost £9.99 from Sainsbury's Homebase and was the last one left. I did look desperately about for a more picturesque one. Mine was last actually for a good reason: because the plants are overgrowing it. I have no idea what the plants are or what I'm to do with them re watering. There's one pale green coloured succulent and some ivy (ok I do know what 2 of them are). But the one at the back that really is overgrowing I've no idea... actually what am I saying: it looks quite a lot like the thing I bought my Mum for mothers' day. Big serrated dark green leaves. Little pink and white budlike flowers. (They still look budlike even though they've opened.) This one is very soon going to have to be excavated out. Then I might turn this drop-shaped or apple-shaped (it's a blown glass droplet with top stem and side hole; all one piece) thing into a cactus-ery. Ruth: do you know what I'm meant to do with it? They've sprinkled "decorative" orange woodshavings upon the topsoil which is going to make it mighty hard to take out the back plant and still make it look the same. But hey the orange stuff looks pretty tacky anyhow. Maybe I will just mix it in the soil. (Or is that bad?) Ruth is a flowering expert. Ruth do you know what to do..??? Tell you what, it would look lovely with Chinese Mousey pottering about inside. One day, when I get my digital camera working again (needs fresh battery charger) I shall instigate Chinese Mouse photo shoot inside glass planted-up teardrop. And if any photos turn out OK I promise I shall learn how to and post one (or more) up.
I only went in the bleedin' Homebase bc I was so bloody depressed and didn't know what to do... it is a "gloriously" hot day but oppressive and very sunny and blueskied. And police sirens still wailing as I speak. And trucks trundling past. Does anyone know that Stephen King story Children of the Corn? He sums up so mightily the feeling of being lost in the hush wind blowing rushes-like endless sunshining lost and strangely sinister seas of the corn ... I used to have a whole volume of his short stories that I only read when I was feeling (drug) "sick" ... Now I've managed to lose the lot, which is a shame. As although King is blabbery I do have the attention span most of the time for his stories ... (My attention span was genetically modified from a Scottish highland gnat's. Maybe Gnat King Coal's. Or something.)
Which reminds me talking of bizarre things I am (re)reading Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason which is the Queen of Chicklit. Most chicklit (at least the bits that fell open on my perusal at Waterstone's) seems to be about bra sizes and premenstrual inconvenience. At least Bridget Jones is genuinely witty. I like the Renee Zellwegger film version when Colin Firth discovers her diaries compromising revelations open to the world... she sees what he must have read. Swears. Scurries to put on shoes. Runs after him into the snow (this was computer-enhanced digisnow btw)... returns distrought to flat feeling Colin Firth gone forever... only for him to return saying "I noticed your book was full so I've bought you a new one" (probably from Smythson's of Bond Street.)
Right I am about to venture back into the bright sunshiny day to plonk new "vase" home.
Second song of the day yesterday was meant to have been The Verve: Drugs Don't Work, but couldn't get crosslink up (delay between posting and it appearing in blogue) on time.
Re talking to one's self - Sheila Hancock, on *Just a Minute* last night, reminded me that we all have an internal monologue running most if not all of the time. In other words we're...
10 hours ago