Jammy Toast

I’m having one of those weeks. You know the kind where the thoughts keep coming and coming, and despite being completely unrelated they all sort of fit together, jarringly, but they still fit.

Firstly there are all these damn babies, everywhere. I am at that point in my life where everyone is pregnant, literally everyone. I am starting to get a worrying suspicion about some of the boys I know. And right there is part of the issue, the boys I know, not them directly, but the fact that to me they are still the boys, when actually they are not at all, well apart from sometimes perhaps when they are playing Call of Duty or discussing inventing musical bras in the pub. On the whole though, they are not boys, not any more. They are men, men who have jobs, who have wives and girlfriends, who have responsibilities and demands on their time, men who make their own group up adult choices, some of whom are becoming fathers to tiny little babies. Some of whom are still choosing to take part in amateur dramatics despite the fact their mothers stopped making them go to Saturday drama class many moons ago (but we’ll come back to that). When I am a grown up I want all those things too, but if they are *whispers* grown ups, then that makes me one to. I want, a wedding and babies and responsibilities, but honestly not now, when I’m a grown up, which evidence suggests I might already be. You see my problem?

Back to the drama thing and we have another problem with this week. I have wholly accepted, in a way that I wish I could achieve acceptance in other areas of my life, that my friendship group consists of amdram-ers. That thought will bring dread and horror to a lot of you and I do understand your fear. However I think I’m a little that way inclined myself and as such I don’t really mind the fact I am destined to spend a certain percentage of my precious free time in slight strange, little theatres across the country watching productions ranging from the utterly shabby to the astonishingly brilliant. What I do object to however is going to see, an all be it very well performed, piece of musical theatre that demands of me that I think, on a Wednesday for goodness sake. This week I saw a show that made me consider the point of my own existence and question how on earth I am going to achieve anything, and then under harsh and unflattering spotlights, asked what the point of it all was anyway! Thanks very bloody much guys. Who needs enemies when your friends are amdram folk who like to screw with your mind?

My final irritation is the garlic press, well that, the dire state of the global economy and the seemingly inevitable collapse of the single currency in Europe, but mainly the garlic press. Anyway they are all ultimately linked. World leaders, who as we know are all a lying bunch of incompetent idiots, are never-the-less still world leader. I ask myself time and time again how this can be the case when we all know what utter imbeciles they are,  well apart from possibly Angela Merkel and Johanna Siguroardottir. Why have we not boo-ed them out of their seats of power and chased them away to some dank hovel, where they can live out their remaining miserable days trying to blame someone else for their failings. I’ll tell you why because world leader have invented a plot to keep us all poor and having to work hard, thus totally unable to muster the energy to unseat them, in doing so they have now created a financial crisis which is so full of bullshit ordinary human beings can’t understand it. What is the cornerstone of this devious plot, expensive but annoyingly useful kitchen gadgetry. The garlic press for example, no-one needs a garlic press, you can chop the stuff, crush it with the back of a knife, heck just use it whole, right? Well no actually, once you have had a garlic press you can’t just chop it, or smoosh it, you can probably just chuck it in still, but that isn’t always appropriate. Once you have had a garlic press you simply cannot imagine wasting the time and energy with any other form of garlic preparation. Not only that but you suddenly become approximately 5% less crazy as you no longer spend three days after preparing a garlic based meal checking with everyone around you that you have not got garlic breath, only to discover just as the phenomenon passes, that in fact it was your cupped hand you were holding up to your mouth which smelt and not in fact your breath. There are a number of other examples, a potato masher, why not just use a fork? Oh and the plethora of peeling devices on the market, since one simply couldn’t just use a knife? None of these things are cheap and worse still whilst in theory they make life easier, they in fact don’t. Have you ever considered the fact a garlic press is full of crannies, crannies which will end up containing most of said garlic rather than you hard worked on culinary delight? We only keep buying them, because they are so expensive we have to kid ourselves that they actually work. And that ladies and gentlemen I assure you is the most likely true root of the economic crisis.

So those are my irritations, my issue laid bare. I know what I want when I’m ready, I know I am not in a place to get, and the universe is clearly not on my side, and the only thing right now bringing me any comfort is a cup of tea and some jammy toast.