Things I nearly stepped on while walking:
A very large dead rat. It was as long as it’s very long tail; it had been driven over and was lying in a pool of its own squelched blood. Its mouth was open and frozen in a rigid expression of silent despair, teeth bared for eternity. As I raised my foot to take a step I looked down and saw it splayed out in its gory splendour. I gasped and grabbed Trooper’s hand, she, stunned herself was hopping on one foot and letting out little sounds of panic. We continued walking, reaching school with beating hearts, wishing we could erase the rat that was now stuck firmly in our mind’s eye.
A dead cat. It had just recently died, I could tell because it had not yet been driven over and squelched by car tires. White, scruffy and wet, it was obviously a stray, with fur that had never been brushed or felt the caress of a stroke. It looked like it was asleep but it must have been hit mid run across the road, probably on its way to grab a scrap of food lying on the other side.
A headless chicken. It was lying in the ditch, dirty, bloody and missing a head. I walked past quickly. Trooper says she is relieved that she is already a vegetarian.
In other more cheerful news:
Exciting things I have done: planned my Halloween costume. I am not one for dressing up but it will be a good party and they won’t let me in unless I am showing some ghoulish spirit. I really am awful at costume parties, being far too vain to throw myself into something horrifyingly unattractive just for the sake of a party. So I have elected to wear a velvet cape dug out of Princess’s special box. I will be royalty of some sort. Not sure Handsome Husband has a clue, especially since I haven’t told him about the party yet. I am sure something exciting can be found in the special box.
I am still sneaking off to Camp Sweetness. Today we had a pretend birthday party and everyone was a magic candle. Then we all turned into balloons and flew away.
But the best thing of all? Teaching poetry to 14 year olds and the whole room goes quiet. These were the lines:
“I never saw so sweet a face
As that I stood before
My heart has left its dwelling place
And can return no more.”
(First Love by John Clare).
Even the most hardened inmates at Camp Hormone love a good love story. Soft they are, really.