Ice cream

Vanilla or chocolate?

James

James woke up to a new world. The 1st of Jan. He felt different. He felt different inside. All of the old garbage that had been clanging around inside of him didn't seem to be there any more. He felt clean. He felt strong. He felt as if he could do anything. Up he got - his toned body strained and stretched, flexed and pulled, as he rose from his bed and walked through into the bathroom. This felt different too - his body felt different. Then, he looked into the mirror. This was different. That was not his face. Or was it?

Pasta

Today I went into a supermarket - Morrisons. I was overwhelmed. I nearly didn't make it out again. Have you been in there!? Have you seen what they've got!!?? I don't know ... for instance, and this is just an instance, they have a section entirely devoted to pasta. I looked at it for ages, overwhelmed, transfixed. This pasta was so beautiful. So beautiful. I don't even like pasta! A section of different kinds of pasta. Loyd Grossman's was my favourite. There was Buitoni. And Morrison's own. I would like a wall of pasta in my own house. That would be amazing.

Still

After the end of everything, we come out into a square and reach into our pockets to see which possessions we have retained. I have a marble, said my son; I have a piece of chewing gum, said my daughter; I have a gun, said my next door neighbour, look, and he blew his own head off. Apart from that, it was very quiet in the square, as everybody else had just gone, perhaps they were indoors, I don’t know, I don’t even want to know what had happened to them, but, as I went down to my local fish and chip shop, I saw a few signs, a few signs of what had been. A leaf, a piece of chewing gum, and a little brown dress. Inside the fish and chip shop were some chips, cold now. I dived in and ate a load of fucking chips because I was so damned hungry. I ate and ate and ate like there was no tomorrow.

Harry

There was a man called Harry, and he would walk down the street, and go into the fish and chip shop where he would buy his supper, and say to the lady behind the counter, How are you? When he got home his cat would miaow at him, and he would sit down in front of the telly and watch something like Family Fortunes for instance. One evening a man came round - called Reginald - and he stole his soul. He came in and sucked his soul right out of his mouth, but little Harry didn’t even notice.

Steve

Steve came down to the flat below and walked in and I said hello steve, how are you? He opened up his mouth and from within came a flock of seagulls like beautiful creatures and after that came a flock of other birds - blackbirds - and then after that came nothing – death - and after that came the last thing which was night.

Bob

Bob was a guy who liked to open other people’s letters so he became a postman and opened other people’s letters. One day he opened my letter and I found him looking at them. Come here, I said, but he said, No way, man, you must be joking. I shot him in the head and as he bled to death he said to me, You bastard, why did you shoot me? I said, because I am violent.

Money

I have a lot of loose change in my house. The other day I decided to count it up, the first step in which process was to separate the coins into their different denominations. That though is as far as I've got, the reason being that I really like having these piles of coins around. I'm like the old-fashioned miser who spends his evenings counting his money. Except I don't count them - I just like having them around. This - literally - is money, isn't it? Money these days is increasingly notional - it resides in bank accounts and is used via a plastic card - we never really get our hands on it. Well, I have my hands on it - I am surrounded by pots of 20p's, pots of 5p's, pots of one pound coins - and I like it. With this money I can buy anything, or, on the other hand, I can just keep it.

Chutney mangoes

Today, right, I've been feeling quite bolshie. I went to my parents and had some lunch and engaged with them in conversation. Amongst other topics I told my Mum in particular about this new hand cream I'd bought (Mums are interested in hand cream). It cost me £10 for a smallish jar, it's from the body shop and it's called African honey butter - I cannot tell you how much I love it. I wish my whole life could be as good, as dreamy-creamy as this small pot of hand cream. When I smear it on my hands they smell gorgeous - I feel beautiful and sensuous.
I didn't actually go into all this detail with my parents. I rattled on about a number of subjects which I can't recall now. I took down their deckchair cushions from on top of the wardrobe which is where they reside in the winter months and furthermore I performed another couple of errands for them which contravened directly my essentially lazy nature but did make me feel good - like a good person.
Later on I played squash - had a rattling good game of squash - and somehow managed to retain a lot of energy. Actually, this is not good because now I feel extremely manic.

Spring

"Nothing is so beautiful as spring, when weeds in wheels shoot long and lovely and lush ..."

Love that poem, love this time of year when the weather keeps on getting warmer and the evenings keep on getting lighter and you get more and more sunny days. Don't you?