Day 90. There is no fresh food left in the shops and the
smell of rotting means I have had to pull a lot of doors shut. There is still
frozen food and tins of course but I have had to clear out the meat and veg
displays in the supermarkets to stop them becoming ‘no go zones’. The fozen
food should last for another three months at least. Oh god, that’s another
ninety days. I started to think about places that change their names. Persia
became Iran, Gold Coast became Ghana, Rhodesia became Zimbabwe and what did
Iceland used to be called? Oh, I remember – Bejams.
Day 91. A day of reflection. The sun has come out and I
have taken a moment to pause from my latest plan. The building of a helicopter
from stale bread is well underway. The French Sticks look robust enough for the
blades and the Bagels make perfect washers for the rotary Pandesal but there is
still work and engineering to do. I lay on the beach with my top off and closed
my eyes so the sun could bathe the backs of my eyes. My hand paused momentarily
on my favourite nipple and I remembered the old radio in my parents house. I
twisted it, much as I used to on the old set, and suddenly I thought I could
hear a Gloria Hunniford ‘phone in’. It was not be. It was just the sound of a
seagull repeatedly bashing its head against my failed bread motor boat.
Day 92. When I was busy I used to dream of having the time
to do all the things I wanted to do. Now, with nothing but time, I find I have
no energy or inclination to do anything. Today I decided to remedy this and start
by improving my mind. I spent the afternoon in the library reading. I was
particularly captivated by discovering that Swarfega is tapped, like rubber,
from trees. The pictures of the Swarfega forests in Equador are quite stunning
with their unique canopy of vibrant green leaves from which the sap takes its
colour. What is sad to see is the over commercialisation of production now.
Gone are the traditional wooden collecting bowls and now the tins are tied
directly to the trees making the forest resemble a large branch of B&Q
Day 93. Today I shall pause to remember all those that
have given their lives to save others. That is all
Day 94. The speed in which technology has changed over the
last twenty years is staggering. I love what it allows you to do. Having been
alone for ninety-three days it makes me wonder what new ideas have been launched.
I hope they have finally implanted a chip in people’s forearms that only works
at blood temperature and means you don’t need to carry about credit cards. Also
cinema eyelids, they would be great. As a result of this thinking I decided to
visit The Mac Museum on the outskirts of the town. A really lovely example of a
Gabardine and quite a nice Waxed Barbour.
Day 95. I have been thinking about whether my lethargic
mood is affecting my fitness. Even at the age of 84 my grandfather was able to
put his left leg behind his head. It was quite impressive although it was a
wooden one. He could also leave it the corner of the room. I have always been
fascinated by Homing Pigeons although I hate those birds. As a result I have
been training Homing Slow Worms. A week ago I walked to the end of the pier and
let them go. If my training has worked they should be back home in about a
month. I can’t wait
Day 96. My mind wandered and suddenly I grew very angry at
the fact the vacuum cleaners, whatever their claims, never get the fluff that
gathers right at the edge of the carpet and the skirting board. The presence of
that dirt is a constant reminder of the failure of capitalist system. The dirt
is technically known as ‘fluffabobble’ and is made at the same factory where belly
button fluff is created. The wibble elves have to go out every night to fill
navels and skirting cracks for the next day. Many were made redundant from
Santa’s factory in the last recession. It’s good that they still have work.
Purple is a nice colour.
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