in which Beshemoth is convinced the End Is Nigh, yet does nothing whatsoever about it

Having been all refreshed by a weekend of not doing much: onward! For this week, it Will All Be Different (TM)!

And indeed it was; I was all, ‘forward ho!’, and absolutely nothing happened. Hmm. Energy levels down, glands up… nose running, head pounding… balls. Another cold. However! Some honest-to-god paid overtime and an unprecedented heatwave have both arrived to cheer me up! Woo! Blinding sunshine every day and friends texting to tell me about the guys in leather hotpants (leather hotpants?)

(How was the view? Blinding, apparently – Scottish people have very white legs, except for that weekend in June when they go lobster-red. Which is why I don’t understand anti-immigration sentiment; the way things are going, we urgently need to mix in the genes of people who do not dissolve on contact with UV light.)

Despite the overtime (filing eight whole pieces of paper for another department. They are going to flip over my unfiled paper: I have at least five reams), I managed to get out and enjoy the sunshine; by digging out the compost heap and a number of thorn-bushes. Woo. Because… I have more good news! The greenhouse has permission to go! YAY! Apparently, it had permission before, but they forgot to tell me. Hee.

Now quick, to get it erected before someone changes their mind!

I was a bit worried the Bossman wouldn’t be able to make it over to help, because of this fuel crisis thing. Seriously, where did that come from? Somebody somewhere said they were thinking about having a bit of a strike, the government added water media, and the next thing I knew, there were fifty cars backed up at the petrol station across the road all night, all honking at each other. It’s like we’re being distracted from the latest budget or something!

I was slightly alarmed in case they had a barney that got out of control and blew the damn thing up (and my flat, and me) but that’s because a helpful friend once showed me Miracle Mile and I’ve had nightmares about it ever since. In fact, due to the trauma, I hold him personally responsible for my Apocalypse Kit, which contains everything I need to a) run to the hills, b) set up camp,  and c) snuff it from gin and sleeping pills* before I snuff it from something worse and sorer.

On a less light-hearted note, how come every time I look at the online news, the UK government has announced it’s removing something else? NHS funding, council funding, benefits, free legal representation… the difference between Britain and the Third World seems to be disappearing rather sharpish. (As far as I can see, that difference is: 1. Infrastructure, 2. Quality of living for the common person, 3. Human rights.) Why has there been no revolution?

But since I too have no earthly idea how to start one (at least, not in a way that wouldn’t make things worse) I looked for an easier way to join in the fun. Alas, I have no car. So, has the panic buying of things that aren’t petrol started too?

Apparently so – my Colleague of Skull Scarves told me bread and milk were flying off the shelves. “I mean, who has the room to freeze that much bread and milk?” she said, while I looked at the ceiling and whistled a merry tune. (“Yeah, pshaw,” I nearly said, “I stockpiled milk powder and yeast and flour, like, years ago**” – but I realised this might make me look a bit mad). Still, to get into the spirit of things, what shall I panic buy?

However, a woman who has a whole kilo of potassium sorbate***, among other things, probably has no need for panic buying.

So against the background of me being a pessimistic bastard convinced it’s all going to hell, I had the Bossman over for the weekend, (for he had cunningly filled up the day before everyone panicked) and we ate and drank and watched reality TV. Ahhh bliss! Volcanoes From Hell! Megafloods of the Post-ice-age USA! Latest findings in astronomy! (What? It’s all real!)

And the weather even stayed good for the weekend, so we were able to put up the greenhouse, hurrah! And didn’t even really fall out!

I don’t have the slightest clue what one would do about the impending end of the world, to be honest.

*(Except the gin, which I drank at some point. Oh crivens!)

**(Then the bread-machine packed it in).

***(I was sick of running out of it, mmkay?)


About beshemoth

Mainly making art, making wine, writing and gardening. Having a life only as the above allows.
This entry was posted in a horse so high I need a parachute, allotmenting, forever coming down with something, I Make Thing!, inadvertent loonytunes admission. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to in which Beshemoth is convinced the End Is Nigh, yet does nothing whatsoever about it

  1. motheralice says:

    Wow! Is that the greenhouse!? Hot shit! You know there’s a person lurking in there? Better keep an eye on that one….

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