Friday, 3 September 2010

Fruitcake fish fox and fleas

At last, it's done. The plumber finally rang. Fruitcake got some of the plaice.

Later I met a friend for a drink and we talked a great deal of sense about Art, Religion and Truth. You will notice that the initials of these topics are also ART (lucky we didn't talk about work much, though come to think of it , we did talk about film). In fact it might help to know that this whole document is littered with such cunning devices. For example if you find the right lower case i and click on just the dot, it will unfold the secrets of the universe. Naturally if you retype it all backwards there will be a message from the devil.

Coming back from the drink at about twelve, the roads were dark and almost silent. In a multi-tasking manner, replying to a text and walking, I looked up slightly dazed by the light from my phone. Something was watching me from the pavement. At first I thought it was a cat, then a dog, until I realised it was a young fox. It was probably born this year and at first it didn't seem that bothered about me. It was more interested in nuzzling at the base of it's tail. It kept spinning on the spot to do it again. I thought I recognised the behaviour. Fleas. They are very irritating, as Fruitcake would tell you, and I can on my own behalf. You can't unravel the secrets of the universe without getting bitten by fleas.

Then the fox noticed me and looked panicky with its big ears straight up, as if it didn't know where to run. I told it not to worry, fleas were a great nuisance, and it had my sympathy. The fox looked somewhat reassured and got up enough confidence to slip through some railings then go on bothering the fleas on a lawn. I said goodnight and carried on.

Home again twenty minutes later I was upbraided by Fruitcake. I reminded him that Cho was at a conference and asked if I wasn't perhaps permitted now and again to meet a friend for a quiet pint and to talk about art. Think about it, though, Fruitcake suggested as he munched biscuits, what are you doing still up and talking to foxes at gone midnight in the working week? It was a good question.

By the way, Satan says "enod sti tsal ta".

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