Yesterday was a good day. Due to the now semi-permanent residence of a particularly odious Irish houseguest on our sofa (not necessarily odious for being Irish, but it certainly doesn't help), I spent the morning busying myself in the kitchen: washing up, drying, loading, unloading, cleaning, scrubbing, dusting and singing deliberately loudly to the assorted back catalogues of Belle & Sebastian, Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons and Bright Eyes. After an hour's hearty toil though, the Irish squatter was showing no signs of imminent departure, and considering that I was now sole custodian of a spotless and sparkling kitchen with no further maintenance required, I resolved to defrost the freezer by way of keeping myself busy. We're very fortunate in 'The House That Love Built (And Then Forgot)' to have two fridge/freezers, so I transferred what little edible whittles Fobbs and I still had in ours (a lot of condiments and not a lot of actual food, apparently) over to that of Pongo and Honksy, who observed the operation with disdainful leers. After switching off the appliance it was then relatively straightforward to establish a base perimeter of bin liners on the floor, which was then added to with a layer of towels, thereby achieving my aim of recreating the structural template of the earth's crust (ie: bin liners as upper mantle, towels as tectonic plates).
This took longer than I had anticipated, by which time the Irish traveller had changed out of Honksy's spare pyjamas, drank all of our milk and departed. Spying a slender thread of privacy I seized the opportunity and put on the '40 Great Power Ballads' CD recently given to me by Magic 105.4, and start work on my scrapbook.
The first ticket stub I believed worthy of retention was that of Tottenham Hotspur versus Leeds, at the Lane, 98/99 season. Sol Campbell equalised to make it 3-3 in the 92nd minute, with a bullet header on the six-yard line, right where we were sitting. It was the greatest day of my life (admittedly since relegated to ninth, due to the fact that Sol Campbell went on to betray everything I stood for, and forever blind me to the concept of future happiness). But from then on I kept my tickets as a means of meagre tokenism; so that I could go on to brag rakishly about my exploits in later life. It's not unfair to say that my aspirations were unrealistic. In fact now that the true fiscal, physical and emotional poverty of adult life has set in.....this ragtag collection of sundries is more a dusty shelf of failed romances and lost friends than it is glorious trophies' cabinet. However, some half-notable entries included:
- Coldplay, Crystal Palace, 2005. A fine relic of The Golden Summer. Party Squid gave me my first true taste of London
- Cubs v Pirates, Wrigley Field, Chicago, 2008. Felt like I was in Rookie Of The Year. Pretzels were too salty, beer too diluted. The Goat, the Bear, the Toad and the girls on wonderful form. One of the most fun days I'll ever have
- Rain Man, Apollo Theatre, 2008. Got chatting to Josh Hartnett in the bar afterwards. Told him my dad thought he was a prick in Pearl Harbour for tapping his best mate's missus. He said, 'yeah mine too.' Bloody good lad
- Crazy Golf, Nerja, 2009. The day I got sun-stroke at the waterpark and then called you saying I thought I had either meningitis or concussion
After that, the day took all the necessary features of an ideal Day of Rest. Pongo watched / swore at the rugby while I read Moby-Dick in my armchair. Then we did the usual 'Double-Up Sunday'; this week by watching The Mask (matinee) and The Disappearance of Alice Creed (main feature). Pongo cooked a roast in between; a delightful side of beef with Yorkshire puddings, potatoes roasted in goose fat, vegetables including his wonderfully-mashed parsnips, and of course his signature red currant gravy. It was an outstanding feast, and far more advanced a dish than my cooking abilities could adequately, or inadequately, replicate. My cup overfloweth (with aforementioned gravy).
After the film Honksy and Fobbs were so scared of kidnappers (exacerbated perhaps by Pongo and I hiding in Honksy's bed and trying to force a bag over her heard when she came in) that they camped at the top of the stairs to 'watch for entrants' as we carried out the rubbish and recycling. A pleasant evening to draw the blinds on a pleasant day; reaffirming of half-forgotten idylls, and quietly persuasive of something approaching fulfilment.
Also, the titles of these letters are often obscure at best, but today's is a clear truth. The dog days are over. Crass, maybe. But Lord knows this Squid needed it.
Maybe Sol Campbell's vile defection hasn't blinded me completely after all.
Your loving friend,
Action Squid
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