Tag: postaday

17th June – A church sermon was illustrated with a Renaissance sculpture of the devil tempting Christ:  the devil is bent-nosed and bald;  Christ is straight-nosed, long-haired and bearded.  They are both white.

18th June – Out for a walk, I passed a flock of ground-feeding sulphur-crested cockatoos.  One took off and flew close to my ear, squawking.  Almost deafening.

19th June – A man and his 10 year-old daughter went past on a bike – him riding and her standing on the bag rack, her hands resting on his shoulders.

20th June – At a closing-down sale of a large store, I was sold a cardigan by a fifty-something saleswoman.
“Are you a member?” she asked.
“No.”
“Would you like to become a member?”
“Ah, no….”
She shrugged.  “We have to say it.”

21st June – On this winter solstice, the shortest day of the year, it’s very cold and blowing a gale, yet a few women are outdoors in strappy tops.

12th June – My monosyllabic student had to write poetry for an assignment.  I started, he followed and came up with several words at a time.  Then he wrote a sequel.

13th June – My son who studies physics asked me which theory was more plausible:  time travel backwards or the idea that the physical world is an illusion.

14th June – Woke at 2 am and still awake at 5.  (This is not the unusual thing.)  I was surprised, in passing the hours, to read in a novel a recount of a long and spooky dream, then to pick up a second novel and read a recount of a long and spooky dream.

15th June – Turned on the car radio this morning to Artsound FM and heard Django Reinhardt.  Turned on the car radio this evening to Classic FM and heard Django Reinhardt.

16th June – Just after midnight, the dog across the street, who chases his tail all day and has never been outside his small yard, escaped and was free.  Ironically, shortly after, his mistress was put in a paddy wagon and taken to the watchhouse for the night for refusing to cooperate with the police (who had left her gate open…).

7th June –  A black cat crossed my street.  The late afternoon winter sun created a monster-cat shadow which got me up off my chair to see if it was being followed by a large dog.  It wasn’t.

8th June – Sat at the table in a student’s home and quickly stuck to the seat in several places.  Put my books on the table;  they also stuck.  I told my 9 year-old friend about the problem;  she confessed it was maple syrup.

9th June – I’ve noticed that since I started blogging, I’ve stopped talking much.

10th June – Found out the previous owner of our new second-hand car was Lego.

11th June – On The Voice, the TV singing talent show, the coaches frequently say “I love you” to their protégés, who sometimes reply, “I love you, too”.  This love is a new fashion.

2nd June –  My daughter-in-law, dressed as Madeline from the book by Ludwig Bemelmans, dropped in after work.  She works in a bookshop.

3rd June – Heard a woman on the news complaining of child care centre costs, saying it costs almost as much as she earns but she keeps working, anyway, so she doesn’t lose her skills.  But if she raised her own child she would gain great mothering skills.

4th June – An academic who said he doesn’t read people’s blogs responded to my arm-twisting today to read two paragraphs from one of my posts.  Only two.

5th June – The dog in the tiny yard opposite my place chases his tail all day, round and round, drilling circles in the dirt (mud today).

6th June – With my head in a rack of coats in a clothes shop, I heard a customer say she needed to change a top for a bigger size because the one she bought was “a bit snug around the middle”.  The shop owner said, “‘Must be all that meat”.  I thought, wow, that was a bit rude!  Then I turned and saw that the customer was the lady butcher from a few shops away.

18th May – Just received an email telling me how much the sender is grateful for my friendship and that good things will happen if I send it to ten more people.  But there’s more;  I am promised that at 10.35 am tomorrow I’ll hear something I’ve been waiting to hear.

19th May – At 10.35 am I was teaching a girl who can’t read much.  I didn’t hear what I’ve been waiting to hear;  she still can’t read much.  This false prophecy had an unusual effect on me:  though I looked at the email only once, the exact time prediction played on my brain like an irritating jingle.

20th May – A woman in the Housing flats had her partner evicted by police and is now picking up all the beer cans and rubbish in the yard.

21st May – In the black of night I was driving out of a large country property when the tall wrought-iron gates automatically began closing towards me.  I waited a few seconds, then they opened.

22nd May – Waited at traffic lights behind a painted hippy holiday van with the message ‘Beer makes you see double, makes you feel single’.