May 04, 2005


For that is today.

I've just been to the dentist to have three (count 'em) fillings, and am having trouble with my jaw muscles. I had to rinse my mouth out and spit into the sink thing they have there, but failed this task miserably and ended up dribbling the green mouthwash stuff down my shirt. But it's not my fault! Everything is super-floppy and would be really funny if I didn't have to talk, speak, or spit out the horrible phlegmy contents of my mouth occasionally, yet unfortunately that is part of daily life. So I'm slightly burdened, at least for the next couple of hours, by not being able to talk. This is a
GOOD THING. Firstly, because I spend half my life talking to people, and secondly, because recently I've been moaning like an old man a lot. It's not very becoming of me, and I don't really know why I'm doing it; the weather's nice, I'm in love, we live by the sea, and times are good. So after careful analysis I've come to the conclusion that I may be going through, what is commonly known in the business as, a Stannard Phase.

We Stannards are generally great (we are, so bollocks to you), but occasionally subject those in our immediate vicinities to bouts of utter wankerishness, characterised by prolonged periods of rudeness, aggression, anger, moaning, sulking, groaning and most other really annoying traits that human beings are renowned for, all rolled into one. You ask anyone close to us, they'll all agree; we're lovely, but we're twats. So blogging this, getting it in print, is I feel, an extremely positive and cathartic way of dealing with my twatishness. Could I have found a cure for my hereditary bastard syndrome? I'm already feeling less moany! Oh happy day!!!

In fact I do find that writing on this here computer tends to help a lot with a great many things. I've never been one for writing down what's swirling around in the vacuous canyons of my head, and have never kept a diary, journal, or any such thing. It's never appealed to me. So to be putting it all down here is a totally new and fascinating thing to me. I'm not ashamed to say that I can quite happily sit back and read through my old posts until the cows come home (I love that phrase), even if there is probably a degree of vanity involved in the whole 'look at my me, I've got a blog' thing. That surely is a part of it, but also, isn't being able to see what you were doing and thinking the whole point of keeping a diary? You may think I'm naive, but I've never thought about this kind of thing before, so I'm still in the catch-up stage of diary-keeping. Please forgive me my juvenile ramblings.

On a more sombre note, I must relay the sad news that my Mum's cat Magic has passed away. Magic, as well as being almost as old as me, had endured at least four different house moves, living with three Stannard men (see above), as well as various hair-loss involving ailments, and had outlived all of her kittens, Jazzie, Cassie and Zorro. She'd done incredibly well to still be jumping and prowling around in 2005, and despite being pretty healthy and happy when I last saw her at Christmas, it seems that old age finally caught up with her, and she became ill very quickly and had to be put down. If I had a picture of her in the flat I would put it here, but I haven't, so I'll just have to remember her as she was: somehow sitting atop the dresser in the breakfast room, despite it being seven feet tall; ignoring the food she had just demanded for the last half an hour by squealing at me incessantly, and then shooting me a look that said
"Whiskers? I'm better than fucking Whiskers mate."; walking on the dinner table, as if it was a perfectly natural thing to do; and generally being the lovely, soft, beautiful, but slightly aloof cat that she was. She'll be missed.

My mouth feels a bit less floppy now, but I still can't eat for another hour or so. Damn you dentist!

I'll have to do a whole post about the brilliance of Twin Peaks at some point. Here's another website to look at. It's easily the best TV series type thing there has ever been, and is demanding of discussion, but not today. While I'm at it, I'll probably take the time to discuss the finer points of some of David Lynch's films, not including Mulholland Drive. That film is bollocks. So, just to get it off my chest, maybe I'll discuss that too if I feel that way inclined. The reason I say this is because we were watching one of the not so great episodes from season two the other day, and one of the characters (okay, David Lynch playing Gordon Cole - I'm such a geek) said:

"The word linkage reminds me of sausage."

Any film/TV show/song/anything that has the confidence to just toss in a line as blatantly hilarious and ridiculous as that, deserves to be rewarded with a whole post in it's honour. But that's another day.

Finally, she'll probably kill me, but I have to mention that Mrs L said the word baton in her sleep the other day. Not just any ordinary baton you understand, but a wonderful French stick baton with a full French accent. I laughed, yes I did.


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