Vegetable meanderings
Jun. 9th, 2006 11:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smokingbootSo there's the heat and the sunlight and the garden and me.
No maelstrom this weekend due to my first outings on the late night shows. Which means I should be looking to kip right now. Only I can't, because everything is too hot!
Growing up in Singapore, I hated having too many clothes on, and nothing has really changed; given the choice, if I could waft around in chiffons and gossamers or just very little, I seriously would. Everything feels so heavy against my skin, even dear old cotton; Winter is often an agony of clumped up scratchy layers for me, can't move, can't breathe, can only itch. No, I prefer a world where fig leaves and flowers are our only fashion statements...
See, I am looking at these beautiful flowers inmamapusscat's garden, while I try to kip on the lounger, and I can't help thinking how much nicer it would be if you could just wear petals against your skin; for one brief moment I imagined myself rolling around in the petals of a gigantic rose, wet and fragrant, admittedly there would be the inevitable impaling on a massive thorn to follow but no point complaining; pleasure should always have an element of the unexpected.
In lieu of giant flowers, I suddenly thought; 'I could just press the flowers against my skin' but of course, one wouldn't want to take them off their stems. So then I thought, 'I could go up to the flowers and press my skin against them instead...'
Then, crystal in vision, my mind's eye showed me a court room full ofmamapusscat's indignant neighbours and baffled legalbeagles.
Prosecution: Mr Angersome Gardner, remember you are on oath. Would you repeat for the court exactly what you saw?
AG: She was pressing them roses to her breasts, your honour, both of them.
Pro: Both roses?
AG: Both breasts. The one on the right was a rhododendron. I checked. Then she moved them round a bit.
Pro: The breasts?
AG: The flowers. One of those rose bushes was an old English Ena Harkness. With the World Cup on the way, it seemed disrespectful. Naturally I was on the phone to the Royal Horticultural College within seconds.
Pro: It must have been quite a shock to you.
Ag: It's my poor wife who suffered the brunt; This all happened just above where I buried her.
Pro: Ms Boot, can you deny nuzzling your breasts up against the local flora of Haringey Council?
Boot: Um...well, I wouldn't call it 'nuzzling' as such.
Pro: Really? What would you call it?
Boot: I was suckling them, your honour. We all do that up north.
And suddenly we're dealing with an entirely different kind of court order...
No maelstrom this weekend due to my first outings on the late night shows. Which means I should be looking to kip right now. Only I can't, because everything is too hot!
Growing up in Singapore, I hated having too many clothes on, and nothing has really changed; given the choice, if I could waft around in chiffons and gossamers or just very little, I seriously would. Everything feels so heavy against my skin, even dear old cotton; Winter is often an agony of clumped up scratchy layers for me, can't move, can't breathe, can only itch. No, I prefer a world where fig leaves and flowers are our only fashion statements...
See, I am looking at these beautiful flowers in
mamapusscat's garden, while I try to kip on the lounger, and I can't help thinking how much nicer it would be if you could just wear petals against your skin; for one brief moment I imagined myself rolling around in the petals of a gigantic rose, wet and fragrant, admittedly there would be the inevitable impaling on a massive thorn to follow but no point complaining; pleasure should always have an element of the unexpected. In lieu of giant flowers, I suddenly thought; 'I could just press the flowers against my skin' but of course, one wouldn't want to take them off their stems. So then I thought, 'I could go up to the flowers and press my skin against them instead...'
Then, crystal in vision, my mind's eye showed me a court room full of
mamapusscat's indignant neighbours and baffled legalbeagles.Prosecution: Mr Angersome Gardner, remember you are on oath. Would you repeat for the court exactly what you saw?
AG: She was pressing them roses to her breasts, your honour, both of them.
Pro: Both roses?
AG: Both breasts. The one on the right was a rhododendron. I checked. Then she moved them round a bit.
Pro: The breasts?
AG: The flowers. One of those rose bushes was an old English Ena Harkness. With the World Cup on the way, it seemed disrespectful. Naturally I was on the phone to the Royal Horticultural College within seconds.
Pro: It must have been quite a shock to you.
Ag: It's my poor wife who suffered the brunt; This all happened just above where I buried her.
Pro: Ms Boot, can you deny nuzzling your breasts up against the local flora of Haringey Council?
Boot: Um...well, I wouldn't call it 'nuzzling' as such.
Pro: Really? What would you call it?
Boot: I was suckling them, your honour. We all do that up north.
And suddenly we're dealing with an entirely different kind of court order...
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Date: 2006-06-09 02:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-09 06:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-09 05:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-09 06:46 pm (UTC)ZZZZcccht...
Date: 2006-06-12 09:49 am (UTC)Main personality is offline for repairs following an overload.
Please accept our apologies for any inconvenience caused.
Control out
Re: ZZZZcccht...
Date: 2006-06-12 05:29 pm (UTC)