Love Eggs
Dearest Diary, what a day it’s been.
I am currently on sabbatical from the Invocal farm, and staying in a lovely village called Loogabarooga, which is a bit like Northambleton except perhaps not quite as classy and quaint.
The farm I am staying on is very odd – no sheep, no chickens, and when I tried to milk the one animal I did find, I got really told off.
I say sabbatical, but truth be told I did consider it prudent to keep out of peoples way in Northambleton for a few days. Apparently our serendipidous discovery of a pile of easter eggs and the consequential chocolate frenzy that ensued meant that the frail little orphans from Northambleton got no easter eggs at all this year.
“We just found them! How were we supposed to know they had been planted there as part of the easter egg hunt!?” Helen protested. “Errr because they were hidden INSIDE the orphanage?” an irrate bearded hippy replied; “and because they were only accessable from the outside by an upstairs WINDOW!? seriously! how do you and your crappy band ALWAYS manage to ruin Easter??”
“I don’t think anyone really understands how HARD it is for us ” I said “we have SUGAR NEEDS – I don’t think your precious orphans really understand HARDSHIP.”
I could tell by Hippy’s expression I had made a good point – he had the kind of open mouthed, steely contemptuous glare that could only say “Oh I see! I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
Nonetheless, I thought it might be wise to keep out of the way for a bit.
I love eggs.
Things have been good on the Invocal farm so far this year dear diary, although we miss Sarah and her bizarre delinquent behaviour ever such a lot. We are glad the police eventually freed her and all the charges have been dropped – now she can concentrate on making a baby with that lovely foreign man from Kayndalaykeyurrrnurr. We can’t wait to meet the baby – I have already told them that Rosie is a lovely name for a girl OR a boy, or twins.
We have had a lovely time playing as a trio, including a tour of North just last weekend. These gigs included one in a delightful village called Preston-On-The-Booze, where we played with lovely Natalie www.myspace.com/njmott. She sings some pretty songs about misery and hatred. I am hoping she will play at my wedding, once I meet the right man of course.
We also played at an evening of Burlesque dancers in a hamlet called Olde Coallyville which was brilliant.
I found myself in a bit of a daze when the performing artists were on stage, I think probably because I hadn’t had enough sugar. Anyway, I came too realising Helen and Rachel were clicking their fingers in front of my eyes saying “c’mon, we’ve got to go!” I replied in my delerium “the ladies make me feel funny in my pants”. Naturally I was horrified when I realised what I had said, and explained to the others that I was very tired and possibly coming down with a fever and maybe I needed sugar and I really love Bradd Pitt and Tom Cruise and David Hasslehoff but not Jonny Depp he’s too girly, and they rolled their eyes and tutted in understanding.
On Saturday we are playing at our beloved neighbouring village, Little Cambridgeton. Some of the songs we will be performing with our new friend Debbie Mcgee, Which we’re very excited about.
Anyway I had better go dearest diary – I have been left alone on the farm where I am staying in Loogabarooga, and need to make myself useful. The least I can do is give their one farm animal a bit of a haircut.
