Apollo, The S*it Terrorist
Monday, 1st July
Being off work on a Monday is bizarre. I joined my lovely mate SY and her friends at the home Ed-ers beach hang out. I’m embolded by the fact that some of them are rejecting the tyranny of Cornwall Council’s overpriced beach car parks and are just not paying at all. Maybe I’ll try it next time. (I am actually scared of rule-breaking though, what kind of a punk am I!)
I introduced myself as ‘Nat, I don’t have any children’ because I didn’t want anyone to wonder where my child was and then think it was weird I was at the home Ed group and had not mentioned that I was kidless. No one seemed to mind. I did not out myself as a teacher, though. Risky.
They are a really interesting group of people and the organiser (who I met at Kindred Spirit festival during May half term) sells veg boxes, so I’m defecting from Riverford after last week’s debacle (to be clear, Riverford were amazing and have credited my account with 150% of what I paid, so I shouldn’t complain at all, their customer service is excellent, I’m just still lamenting the fact that I never got to have that spinach and radish pasta due to someone stealing the box!).
I wore my ‘People Power Knock Down Tory Towers’ The Tuts band T Shirt, but worried that not enough people read it (my body type makes writing on T Shirts quite hard to read, might have to lose weight for the sake of politics, but the election is three days away so too late now, had FIVE pieces of banana bread yesterday ). Have voicenoted the Lib Dems to offer my services -only 51 seconds, v. concise for me - but they have not replied. I may have sounded mad on the voicenote.
Got Wimbeldon on telly. I love hearing the balls popping. I am very happy writing with tennis or football on in the background, I’ve realised. I can ignore it and then just look up with things get exciting. Wondering why I spent decades living near Wimbeldon and never actually went to the tennis. Oh well, London’s not gone anywhere. Oh I’ve just looked it up and it turns out I’ve been spelling Wimbledon wrong forever!
Btw, I can’t believe I’d ended up with such needy, extrememly affectionate, mad cats who terrorise me (no comments about the owner’s personality being taken on by the resident felines, please…).
AL has said they (there’s just one of them - they are are they singular) may have a mental breakdown if I don’t solve my cat poo issues. Bear in mind the AL’s ideal home looks like the apartment in American Psycho (Google it) with chairs the price of house deposits, and my vibe is more yarn-bomb attack at a second hand book shop run by insane cats. So they’re only slightly exaggerating about the mental breakdown, probably.
Artemis is fine in the house, her toiletting is nearly perfect and she will happy taunt birds from the skylights and snuggle on my lap the rest of the time. Apollo, on the other hand, is an actual shit-terrorist. (I suppose his namesake is a bringer of death and disease, in The Iliad.) When I return home from work or anywhere, and especially if I have someone with me, Apollo goes and shits on the sofa (OR MY BED if I accidentally leave the door open which I am to NEVER do again). It’s really hard not to feel totally trolled by him. I’ve tried buying new and more litter trays, buying full covered cat toilets, putting them in different places, changing the cat litter. I spend my life scrubbing areas he’s deposited in to remove the smell. I might as well have had three kids at this rate. My newest thing is to play with him for ten minutes at least when I get back so that he forgets to terrorise me. It has worked so far - but I only started it today.
Anyway both my aunty and AL have come to the conclusion that enough is enough - I have to give him what he wants. Which is the outside world! So oh my goddess I’m going to have to actually let them out of the flat, aren’t I? FFS.
Ciao 4 now.
P.S. I know the new profile photo is dodgy. I accidentally added a red text box and haven’t been able to delete it so it looks like I’ve got a mark on my face. AL thinks ‘it’s giving’ East London Gallery Assistant who’s very serious about Art… Oh well at least it’s better than the fake laughing in the last one (though I do love the watermelon shirt and no disrespect to your amazing photography skills, Riitta).