furry feet
No, not my favourite winter slippers, although they are, in fact, the approximate equivalent of wearing a miniature woolly sheep inside-out on each foot. When I went out to the car this morning, it was to discover that the stretch of brickwork under the plane tree has sprouted a tiny forest, or possibly thriving gnome metropolis, of mushrooms. Millyuns of little brown cloche-hat mushrooms, gamely struggling upward between the bricks. You can smell them if you stand next to them, that sort of earthy, bosky smell.
This appears to be bringing out the latent hobbit in me. I know nothing about local mushroom types and their relative likelihood of making me die the Screaming Agony Death Type 2, but I'm fighting a mad desire to harvest a bunch and fry them up with butter and garlic.
Following the noctuary trend of this blog, more weird dreams last night: getting lost in a sudden, new, madly huge and modern downtown section of Harare, in the pouring rain, while trying to find my grandparents (who are dead) in order to give them back the walking sticks they'd left in my car. Probably Deeply Significant of Wossname, if only confusion and futility.
The techno-jinx, incidentally, continues. My laserjet cartridge died this morning, and the automatic front gate died yesterday. Also, the speakers on my computer have suddenly started making noises like the remote scanning droid in The Empire Strikes Back - the evil floating black one with dangling claws? Sort of distant mechanical chattering interspersed with squeaks and static. The Evil Empire is clearly watching me.
This appears to be bringing out the latent hobbit in me. I know nothing about local mushroom types and their relative likelihood of making me die the Screaming Agony Death Type 2, but I'm fighting a mad desire to harvest a bunch and fry them up with butter and garlic.
Following the noctuary trend of this blog, more weird dreams last night: getting lost in a sudden, new, madly huge and modern downtown section of Harare, in the pouring rain, while trying to find my grandparents (who are dead) in order to give them back the walking sticks they'd left in my car. Probably Deeply Significant of Wossname, if only confusion and futility.
The techno-jinx, incidentally, continues. My laserjet cartridge died this morning, and the automatic front gate died yesterday. Also, the speakers on my computer have suddenly started making noises like the remote scanning droid in The Empire Strikes Back - the evil floating black one with dangling claws? Sort of distant mechanical chattering interspersed with squeaks and static. The Evil Empire is clearly watching me.