Today's blog is brought to you from a wicker chair in the window of my second hotel room... I am looking at St Michael's Mount and a sea view that ranges from thick grey to a dusty bronze. It is sincerely beautiful. This is definitely the sort of life I would be perfectly happy to live. I have noticed though that there is a common theme of disappearing ginger biscuits in Cornish hotel rooms.
This might be a brief blog (unless I get distracted) as I am going to pop out into Penzance now and do some shopping so that my wee brother will not be disappointed when I roll into town tomorrow. I need to track down the weirdest item in the world (this small town) and find something suitably horrific to wrap it in and then I can present it to the little sucker tomorrow.
Presents between the two of us range from the genuinely useful to the vomit inducingly bizarre... it makes it a nice challenge. The first present he ever bought me when he had his own pocket money to splurge was a small rubber green cow with red printed hearts on it. When you punch the cow it flashes some mental different colours. It's particularly creepy if you step on it in the middle of the night and not only have a heart attack from the acid trip colours that kick off, but you feel the rubber mushing between your toes like a cold stretchy booger from a very sick 4 year old. The kind that they lick off their lip while they look you in the eye.
His most recent gift to me was season two of the Gilmore Girls which shows that he is willing to swallow both his pride and sense of decency in order to please the women in his life. I have never been more proud of him. I have vowed not to stop until he is securely shackled to a woman I can approve of. He may be single forever. My most recent gift to him was digging out one of the more embarrassing tales of him and telling my Falmouth audience last night. It's a wonder the little guy still talks to me.
So my challenge this afternoon is to find something to really show him how much I think he is brilliant. Like, some road kill stuffed with chocolate fingers (in bags so they are still sanitary) so we can enjoy something gross to poke with a stick and have a nice snack. Or, maybe the first parts of a build your own Amish house so we can live together like loser siblings when I spend all my money on ginger biscuits and have to give up stand up because of the diabetes and mounting hotel bills. Intense. What a gift to be able to give!
TO THE TOWN...