Firstly blogging world, I feel like I should apologise for my extended absence. I have been on holidays and as such have had nothing particularly to tell you… Well nothing that I want published on the interweb in any case for my enemies to use against me. Moving on.
Confined space + (Mumsy + Clare)= Pig
Now that’s out-of-the-way… HELLO!!! How are we all dear readers?I am curled up in a ball hiding under the linen in the laundry closet after spending an afternoon with Mumsy. Now I am aware that I may have painted the dear woman in a less than favorable light and feel that I should just point out that I do love her quite a lot. I do however break out in a rash, start hyperventilating and weep uncontrollably when left alone with her for extended periods of time.
Since I’ve been on holidays starting two weeks ago I had managed untill yesterday to avoid the ‘quality time’ thing with Mumsy. I had also managed to avoid the inevitable ‘I won’t be around forever’ talk which usually follows the ‘sorry Mumsy, can’t today I’m busy’ routine. So yesterday I caved and seeming as I’m back to work on Monday I figured that I would spend my last weekday of freedom with her. Now spending time with Mumsy is not as easy as you may be led to believe. Movies are usually out of the question because as soon as the male and female leads kiss she is up in arms. The bad guy swings at the good guy and she is up in arms, and someone slips an F-Bomb in and she has an aneurism and is carried out by ushers. So after browsing the Now Showing listings I gave up and went in search of something else to whittle away an afternoon. Then… EUREKA!! A trip to the Queensland Art Gallery followed by a romp in the Gallery of Modern Art. I danced a jig, called Mumsy, listened while she danced and jig and then we were on our way.
After a 30 minute train ride, Mumsy is still in high spirits and I am trying not to strangle her. Deep breaths, count to ten and we’re right to continue. A few close calls with road crossings and we amble into the gallery. We were browsing through the Victorian art when it started
This guy will eat your children
Mumsy for all of you not intimately acquainted with her, has a sight impediment. One of her eyes is long sighted and the other severely short-sighted. So half the time she was looking at paintings from half way across the room and the other half of the time she was so close you would think she was trying to lick it. Which is where Security Dude comes in, we shall call him Hank. While Mumsy has her nose all but pushed up against the picture trying to decipher how many bristles were on the brush at the time of the painting Hank runs over like he is about to do murder and asks her to kindly step away from the priceless antique artwork. My self-preservation instincts kick in and I turn away and try to look like the lunatic trying to get a whiff of ancient oil paint is not the donor of half my genes. Needless to say I was mortified.
Following this were a handful of other encounters with various other security guards who told her to not touch, to stand away from and one lady who confiscated Mumsy’s cappuccino. If I wasn’t being otherwise occupied blending into the walls I would have been rather impressed with her rebellion, whether it was intentional or not.
The train ride home was another adventure in itself. She seems to believe that being in close proximity to creativeness will make the creativeness rub off on her. This resulted in her trying to find art in everything she saw. The graffiti on the walls along the train line became works of art by misunderstood artists. The picture on the girl’s bag across the aisle was something to take apart and analyse. By the end of the trip I was sizing Mumsy up for the space in the boot of her car and praying to God to MAKE THE BAD WOMAN STOP!
Did I mention that I love my Mother?