Bill Bryson has written a book about the body called The Body, it’s being serialised on Radio four extra. Yep, radio four extra, don’t snigger. I caught an episode on the way to work the other day. It was about the brain and it was fascinating. Human kinds most extraordinary talent, he says, is thinking.
It’s a shame then that I spend so much time thinking utter shite.
I spend a lot of travelling time lost in elaborate, fictitious scenarios, I don’t know where they come from.
In a recent day dream I was visiting California, staying in a modernist house with a view of the ocean. So far so fabulous, I would really, really like to stay in California with an ocean view and I love modernist architecture. The early part of this stream of unconsciousness had me snorkelling and being swept along with a whale pod. It’s worth noting that I can barely swim. Anyhow it was beautiful, emotional and life affirming but then the story took a turn off Unlikely Street onto WTF Avenue.
My neighbours there were Will Smith, very nice, very chatty, makes a lovely cup of tea, his wife not so much, and Cher, bit of a lush. Cher has a reputation at the local bar for lining up cocktails during happy hour, enough to last the night.
We became firm friends and drinking partners.
I managed to convince her that we should both enter a Cher look-a-like competition in a neighbourhood gay bar. I looked ridiculous, but a large quantity of half price margaritas took the edge off any regrets I had about my choice of outfit, Cher looked amazing. We had an absolute hoot and Cher won third prize, an engraved champagne glass.
She’s very proud of it, it sits on her mantle piece
I wonder, if Mr Bryson met me, he might reassess his previous conclusion?
fat tart 