Bitch on the Blog

February 20, 2014

Penthouse vacant

Filed under: Friends — bitchontheblog @ 14:21

I wouldn’t describe myself as a ‘worrier’. My late (ex and hop) in-laws were worriers. To an extent I did not believe possible. When they phoned they holed FOS (father of son) with millions of questions. Always wanting to know detail. Minutest. Really got to FOS. I myself was just amazed. All my life I have had conversations with my parents not pinning me down. They trusted (still do) that if I have to tell them something personal I will.

HOWEVER. Flood warning: WHEN I worry I worry. And when I worry about someone I know they have become attached to some corner of my vast heart. My heart is vast. To be occupied by all those (virtual or smelly) who are dear to me. Which is good. Except the moment you worry about them. Then I wish I were a barnacle like Looney and just go along for the ride – outside the ark.



  1. Ah, the barnacle. When it is born it starts swimming till it finds a surface to attach itself to. After that, it does nothing because it has achieved its life’s purpose. Somehow despite loud protests I cannot picture either you or Looney quite as barnacles.

    Comment by rummuser — February 20, 2014 @ 15:38 | Reply

    • I can imagine Looney as a barnacle, Ramana. When someone like him sets his mind to something it, well, sucks. When I set my mind to something first I float. To find my bearings. Then I get sucked in.

      No, no, you are right: Looney is no barnacle despite his protestations. And I am most certainly no barnacle material. Which reminds we me: What’s happened to the beetle (Old Foss) in our ark scenario? At least you have shaken off your hind.

      Oh to be an animal. They just live – not even needing clothes or shoes. Or anything. Not that I would wish to be a dog in the South of Spain (roadkill). Or a donkey (labour). Though do love the idea of soaring the sky, looking down upon the world and its mouse.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 20, 2014 @ 15:59 | Reply

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