Today we had a birthday party for Pongo, with new housemate Fobbs. The whole thing was a catastrophe of mismanagement; he arrived home early so we had to force him upstairs while we hurriedly lit the candles, which made the cake melt (ruining the immortal phrase 'PORKY WILL HAS AIDS', which Honksy had written beautifully in yellow icing). Despite that, I think he was actually quite surprised, so I suppose that constitutes success, if only on a technicality. I cooked a suitably average dinner.
Songs I've been listening to this week:
- Yeasayer - Tightrope
- Aimee Mann - Save Me
- Smokey Robinson - Don't Know Why
Anyway, a belated happy birthday to Pongo. And a word to end the week from Patrick Kavanagh (converted into a folk song I believe by the Dubliners):
'On Grafton Street, in November, we tripped lightly along the ledge,
Of a deep ravine where can be seen, the worth of passion's pledge,
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts, and I not making hay,
Oh I loved too much, and by such, by such, is happiness thrown away.'
Your loving friend,
Action Squid
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