It must be us!
We hate all our neighbours with equal
venom: one has dogs that bark; another has a grandson who has to be talked to
so the rest of the neighbourhood can hear; another has vile offspring with even
viler friends; another has a wonderful house with its own swimming pool and
yapping dogs, and so on.
On Sunday morning, however, it was The
Shouties. Immediately opposite us is a
block of flats, but they seem to be an exercise in communal living because, as
far as we can see, they are infested by one extended family. And they shout. They are unable to communicate in voices in
anything resembling normality so whenever they are in movement they sound like
riders in the Wild West keeping the cattle together. There are at least three generations of
Shouties living there and they are all characterized by the same proclivity and
shout where ever and when ever possible.
At a quarter past eight on Sunday morning
the Shouties started shouting and it gradually grew into a convention of the
sotto voce challenged. Cars appeared and
parked in front of our driveway, more and more people appeared who greeted each
enthusiastically and loudly. More and
more of these idiots turned up while some sort of manager figure clutching a
sheet of paper yelled encouragement at each new arrival.
My usual strategy at this type of parking
is to go out onto the street and take a photo of the car’s number plate with my
mobile phone. This usually gets a fairly
rapid response as people in this area are not shy in calling out the mobile
cranes to come and remove illegally parked vehicles.
Thanks to the alleged destructive behaviour
of our next-door neighbours the post separating our two driveways has been
knocked down. This allows the dog owner
to make a sweeping approach across our driveway to park (illegally) outside her
house. Her ineptitude is so great that
the post made it impossible for her to approach her demesne, so the Family
Effort got rid of it. The last time they
did this (they have done it three times) I took a photo of the back of the car
showing the indentation on the bumper where it had knocked into the post and
dislodged it. Denunciations have
achieved nothing, though it was pleasing to see her car towed away once because
of her “parking”!
The Shouties eventually yelled away in
their procession of cars and left the street to quietness and to me!
As the popular demand is for chocolate and
more chocolate, “Chocolate Week” has been extended for another five working
days and I have donned my pinny and tired to make more professional sweets than
the last time.
My attempt to find marzipan failed again
and I was forced to make some myself – at least I was able to get some ground
almonds and then make the icing sugar myself too. Not haute cuisine admittedly but more effort
than I wanted to put in.
I have now produced a series of round,
glacé cherry centred, marzipan wrapped, chocolate covered things which are
hardening in the fridge even as I type.
They should almost be ready to be topped with a swirl of coloured gunge
which I can apply from little pipettes with the coloured extrusion ready to be
squirted.
I also found something which purports to be
rhubarb. It comes in a paper tube and
looks like sugar and I think it is something related to a laxative but that did
not stop my trying to recreate the mythical “White chocolate with rhubarb” bar
that I found and devoured on one unique occasion and have never found
since. Even if the chocolates do not
match the taste of the original experience, they should be useful and, how can
I phrase it, easeful?
Today, Monday is one of the testing days
for me as a two-hour meeting is scheduled after school and I am determined not
to attend. I will have to see how my
absence is regarded. Not only am I going
to cut this meeting, but I am also planning to leave school early! Such audacity! I only hope that I get away with it: I am
relying on my White Knight status to allow such unheard of liberties. Perhaps I should go around muttering “Après
moi, le deluge!” to remind people of what life could be like if I walk!
Sunday evening was taken up with much
reading of Engels and writing something on the Forum which could count for a
mark if I decide not to do the essay.
The response from the other students has been limited, presumably as
they are all still ploughing their way through the text, but it is of little
use to me as there is very little for me to respond to. And in the right-on world of the OU “responding”
is the heart and soul of our work!
The weather is soulless and dull and it has
conveyed its negativity to the teaching staff – or to me. And I want to go home.
Unfortunately the whole day (almost)
stretches ahead with its forbidding length.
There is marking to be done (which was not done yesterday or the day
before or the day before that) but it does not appeal. I will read the first five chapters of Hard
Times and make notes about the descriptions and add something more to the Forum
and in the lively expectation of provoking some sort of writing from somebody
else.
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