24 February 2007


Talking to 231079 last week, who was feeling blue about the passing of time, I pulled out a couple of old journals to try to divine what i was up to this time seven years ago. Given that most of my journals are a messy pile of unidentifiable meanderings and complaints, i was happy to discover that even though early 2000 was one of the most melancholic periods of my life, a short trip to nyc in february notes indicate an anomalous month of respite from the mire.
And also filled with the usual flippant ponderings:

Then, this morning, I happened upon another February snippit, this time from 1996, (good gods, i was alive in 1996!):

the place: Thornton's chocolate shop; Covent Garden; London (an establishment that had the wherewithal to employ me)
the time: approaching Valentine's Day

the characters: stef and Jasmine, purveyor of fine chocolates, busily preparing for the VD onslaught
a momple (not even googlable, alas, a momple was a strange fuzzy puppet on strings, very long legs, head and body fused, if i remember correctly, big googley eyes, constantly at the mercy of a puppeteer)
Jules, a remarkably humorous momple-seller actually in the employ of Hamley's to wander through Covent Garden endearing his fuzzy companions to the rabble.

Jules came into the shop today with his furry momple creatures....We were icing up Valentines Day hearts. I did some doozies: "I love you but you're boring*", "Oh, Mon Cheri", "now available (for a limited time only)", "thump thump", etc. Jules insisted we take a few of his own suggestions: "my wife got the house, car, and the kid, this is all I've got left" on an iced heart with a crack down the middle, and a heart with "for you" on one side and "for my wife" on the other. After wandering around trying to sell our shop and his momples to our customers, professing his true love for Jasmine and reading our hearts, he continued with his pithy suggestions, quoting Yeats and a few well chosen words in persian. He returned about 15 minutes later, betook himself to behind our counter and iced his own chocolate heart, "luv ya til the bomb drops, baby" and then took his momple creatures and left.

* (thank you, Beautiful South)

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