Wednesday, 25 April 2007

Muriel goes for a walk

The latest from my darling friend Muriel.

Cooking is not the same as wanking?!! Oh god, Mur, how I LOVE you!!!! Have just come back from a wonderful bracing walk with my friend Pete and his mad dogs (Honda and Rat Fink). For walk, read ‘stagger’. We had a gorgeous time wandering down a long farm road in the middle of nowhere, chatting our heads off and not realising just how much we were being aided by gravity, then turned around and clocked with immense disappointment that we had to walk back UP it. (Wouldn’t it be nice if you could just tilt the world when you needed to?)

Still, despite the burn, autumn is astonishingly beautiful in the koontreh – everything is tan and purple, and distances elongate, and there’s an interesting icy woodsmoke frizz in the air.

Honda created havoc that we could not control by leaping energetically into roadside farmlands and excitedly chasing sheep. Farmers quartering their properties in their late-model 4X4s do not take kindly to this, and will stop and freely threaten to kill you. Pete and I tried to purse our lips and whistle but couldn’t because we were panting too much. ‘Oh well,’ said Pete, ‘roast lamb tonight.’ (Not really.) Then drove back home in Pete's ancient Mercedes with Honda hanging over the back of my seat, dribbling saliva into my hair. Eau de Ridgeback. The Rat Fink is always in such a state of excitement that all she can do is stand on her hind legs like some sort of untidy circus trick and squeal. Pete gets very annoyed with her, but as long as my friends’ dependants aren’t whining, ‘Mom, I haven’t got any clean socks,’ I’m happy. I get enough of that at home.

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