Now the Sausages Chase the Dog
"Well!" is what Stefan exclaims. He says it in such a way that you are convinced there is some sort of correct answer. But there isn't. His voice is deep and slightly breathless, and would sound like a come-on if it weren't dramatic. He is merely being playful.
Stefan is the violin player I have been rehearsing with lately. He is an old English tribesman type, despite the fact that he gets called a viking because he has reddish blonde hair. But he tans quickly and has a slight anglo-saxon line through him for sure.
On Thursday we met and went to my dad's exhibition on the canal in aid of Tsunami relief. We stopped along the way to buy a cup of tea for a homeless man who was rocking back and forth on his hunkers. He has beautiful green/brown eyes, and we had a lovely chat. I promised to find him one of these days and bring him to the national art gallery, as he has wanted to go but they won't let him in. I failed this weekend, but perhaps next weekend will work. What a nasty country this is - that a homeless person is so removed from society as to not be allowed into a FREE public gallery to view that which also belongs to him. Disgraceful.
Anyway, Stefan and I eventually made the exhibition, then rushed home to get in a quick rehearsal, then went to a session, and then tried to go to a gig, but didn't quite make it. The next time I saw him was yesterday, Sunday, when he arrived at my door sopping wet. "Well!" he exclaimed, as he gingerly edged through my door. "Snow! Imagine that!" Grin, grin. He makes me laugh because he is so polite-seeming, that he regularly catches me out with complete lies that he has fabricated spur-of-the-moment, and delivers in that same slightly-elevated manner. But it was snowing. In fact, at that point it had snowed, then hailed, then rained, then hailed some more. Luckily I seem to have missed all the nastiness.
Saturday was a nice day for me. I slept well because the night before I'd been to visit my grandparents, and I had simply gone to bed early (for a change). My gran was talking about women throwing themselves at men and making their own lives more difficult as a result. I must concur. She came up with a great expression - "once the dog used to chase the sausages but now it seems the sausages chase the dog". Apparently her Peruvian mother used to say that.
In any case, Saturday I met a friend for coffee, and went and bought cheap clothes for myself for the first time in ages. I needed underwear mostly, so that is what I started with, but for €120 I managed to buy underwear, 4 skirts (1 long one), 2 pairs of simple shoes (that have earned me the name Dorothy at work), and a wallet, which I think is not bad going for that kind of money. Then of course I had to go on the batter on Saturday night, which I did with Elbow and Leon, and I danced my socks off in a packed pub that had no space but I didn't care.
Sunday started off with breakfast with my old bassist, followed by a dripping Stefan appearing at my door, and then an exhausted Gwendoline, and we had a great session of my songs, followed by a gig which went remarkably well.
Stefan is the violin player I have been rehearsing with lately. He is an old English tribesman type, despite the fact that he gets called a viking because he has reddish blonde hair. But he tans quickly and has a slight anglo-saxon line through him for sure.
On Thursday we met and went to my dad's exhibition on the canal in aid of Tsunami relief. We stopped along the way to buy a cup of tea for a homeless man who was rocking back and forth on his hunkers. He has beautiful green/brown eyes, and we had a lovely chat. I promised to find him one of these days and bring him to the national art gallery, as he has wanted to go but they won't let him in. I failed this weekend, but perhaps next weekend will work. What a nasty country this is - that a homeless person is so removed from society as to not be allowed into a FREE public gallery to view that which also belongs to him. Disgraceful.
Anyway, Stefan and I eventually made the exhibition, then rushed home to get in a quick rehearsal, then went to a session, and then tried to go to a gig, but didn't quite make it. The next time I saw him was yesterday, Sunday, when he arrived at my door sopping wet. "Well!" he exclaimed, as he gingerly edged through my door. "Snow! Imagine that!" Grin, grin. He makes me laugh because he is so polite-seeming, that he regularly catches me out with complete lies that he has fabricated spur-of-the-moment, and delivers in that same slightly-elevated manner. But it was snowing. In fact, at that point it had snowed, then hailed, then rained, then hailed some more. Luckily I seem to have missed all the nastiness.
Saturday was a nice day for me. I slept well because the night before I'd been to visit my grandparents, and I had simply gone to bed early (for a change). My gran was talking about women throwing themselves at men and making their own lives more difficult as a result. I must concur. She came up with a great expression - "once the dog used to chase the sausages but now it seems the sausages chase the dog". Apparently her Peruvian mother used to say that.
In any case, Saturday I met a friend for coffee, and went and bought cheap clothes for myself for the first time in ages. I needed underwear mostly, so that is what I started with, but for €120 I managed to buy underwear, 4 skirts (1 long one), 2 pairs of simple shoes (that have earned me the name Dorothy at work), and a wallet, which I think is not bad going for that kind of money. Then of course I had to go on the batter on Saturday night, which I did with Elbow and Leon, and I danced my socks off in a packed pub that had no space but I didn't care.
Sunday started off with breakfast with my old bassist, followed by a dripping Stefan appearing at my door, and then an exhausted Gwendoline, and we had a great session of my songs, followed by a gig which went remarkably well.
posted by Green Glass Beads at 16:51
1 Comments:
I'm confused... who's the dog and who's the sausage?
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