Q: Did you hear labia got in again?
A: Yeah, they got a majora victory!
Is that right? It seemed much funnier this afternoon. Oh well, hang on, did you hear the one about the man with strawberries growing out of his head?
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Christmas is over
And (sort of) thank goodness for that. In recent years I have embraced the ludicrous excitement/ crushing disappointment dichotomy of the Parker Christmas experience - wholeheartedly throwing myself into the anticipatory part knowing that an inevitable episode of tears would follow.
Still, this year's disappointment surpassed itself. When I was making the Christmas cake with my mum I went to put something in the recycling box in the hallway and saw that she had received an early gift of a massive tub of quality street or similar. I said 'Oooh!' (because at that stage I hadn't been exposed to six thousand seasonal chocolate boxes at work) and scrabbled to see who they were from. It turns out that they were my Dad's ashes. The shape of the jar/urn/whatever and the kind of fancy purple bag thing it came in really did look uncannily like chocolates. So that was nice. My mum was a bit baffled as to why recycling an egg box upset me so much.
So, that's sort of one of the reasons I haven't been writing anything on here for a while. Well, in the last couple of months. Prior to that I was doing an Open University creative writing course. Naturally, I can only do one extra curricular activity at once so this blog went out of favour for a few months. The writing course started off well and I seemed to do quite well, rather unexpectedly, at the poetry section. In fact, I did offer to have a poem about my dad read out at his funeral. My mum decided that, although my tutor had praised the poem and said it 'speaks volumes about unhappiness, about emotional repression, about culture, class, patriarchy and setting' maybe it wouldn't be right for the occasion.
Anyway, the point of this post was really just to say that Christmas wasn't all that bad. It was a bit weird: Dad not being there, John being in Australia, Mum filling the 'make your own crackers' (bought accidentally) with plastic novelties she found in my teenage bedroom.
Still, this year's disappointment surpassed itself. When I was making the Christmas cake with my mum I went to put something in the recycling box in the hallway and saw that she had received an early gift of a massive tub of quality street or similar. I said 'Oooh!' (because at that stage I hadn't been exposed to six thousand seasonal chocolate boxes at work) and scrabbled to see who they were from. It turns out that they were my Dad's ashes. The shape of the jar/urn/whatever and the kind of fancy purple bag thing it came in really did look uncannily like chocolates. So that was nice. My mum was a bit baffled as to why recycling an egg box upset me so much.
So, that's sort of one of the reasons I haven't been writing anything on here for a while. Well, in the last couple of months. Prior to that I was doing an Open University creative writing course. Naturally, I can only do one extra curricular activity at once so this blog went out of favour for a few months. The writing course started off well and I seemed to do quite well, rather unexpectedly, at the poetry section. In fact, I did offer to have a poem about my dad read out at his funeral. My mum decided that, although my tutor had praised the poem and said it 'speaks volumes about unhappiness, about emotional repression, about culture, class, patriarchy and setting' maybe it wouldn't be right for the occasion.
Anyway, the point of this post was really just to say that Christmas wasn't all that bad. It was a bit weird: Dad not being there, John being in Australia, Mum filling the 'make your own crackers' (bought accidentally) with plastic novelties she found in my teenage bedroom.
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