I've had a Christmas/New Year with several of these exciting things happening to me. Ever since I cooked the porridge for just one minute too long and it exploded all over the microwave.
I hope you all had good control over the broom handles, jugs of water, shirt/dressing gown sleeves caught on doors etc. Any good stories to relate ?
Were there heaving passions going on over the porridge as in Cold Comfort Farm?
"Judith's breath came in long shudders. She thrust her arms into her shawl. The porridge gave an ominous leering heave;it might almost have been endowed with life, so uncannily did its movements keep pace with the human passions that throbbed above it.
'Cur,' said Judith, levelly at last. 'Coward! Liar! Libertine!. Who were you with last night? Moll at the mill or Violet at the Vicarage? Or Ivy, perhaps, at the ironmonger's?
Seth - my son.... Her deep dry voice quivered, but she whipped it back, and her next words flew out at him like a lash.
'Do you want to break my heart?'
'Yes,' said Seth with an elemental simplicity.
The porridge boiled over.
(Hoffnung would have told this much better …)
I still haven't won my battle with clingfilm,it just doesn't work for me.
"Music is the best means we have of digesting time".
W. H. Auden
Blimey, I cannot compete with Cold Comfort and something nasty in the woodshed and sukebind ... But I have these mid-calf leather boots, I lace them up, the laces come down and I practically high tail it down the High Street almost cartwheeling trying to keep one foot before the other avoiding treading on the laces before landing in a heap in an outhouse of chicken feathers, where I can recover my dignity. And then proceed, laces tied, all correct. Quite demure.
Nothing out of the ordinary happened to me over Christmas, because everything I did was in the ordinary...
That is a scene which defies my powers of visual imagination!
The 'inanimate hostility' which I'm most aware of and was mentioned earlier, and which arose several times over the festive season, is the tendency of the water from the kitchen sink tap (my cold tap is very powerful) to find the bowl of a spoon in the sink, resulting in the well-meaning Caliban being drenched by ricochet spray
"The isle is full of noises... Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not"
The Tempest, Act III scene 2 ll 148-9