That's her on the right.Also in Auckland: a street called Westward Ho Road. We drove past it the other night. Imagine living there. Every time you turned into the street you'd feel compelled (well, I would) to shout. "Westward Ho!" you would shout. And then you would wonder where your ho' had gone.
I haven't really got anything interesting to blog about (in case you hadn't guessed that by now) - was flicking through my notebook and all I found was Westward Ho Road, which still makes me giggle, and a lot of random words which I think are the names of bands I vaguely liked, or creatures from a nightmare world. ('Disfear'? It's probably a band.)
Speaking of, I woke myself up yesterday by lying on my back and clawing at the air. I don't remember what I was dreaming about at all but I think I was trying to catch someone, rather than trying to free myself from a sleep monster. Here is an artist's interpretation, including sleep monster called Disfear:
Not shown: Conor's obvious amusement.Do you know what I have? A little craving for crispy duck and hoi sin sauce (which, to me, always sounds like someone shouting "Oi! It's in sauce!" in an Oriental fashion) on noodles, with those things which look like bean sprouts but may not be.
God knows what I have drawn, they look pretty much nothing like that.Unrelated to food, Andrea has just informed me that catteries pump happy cat hormones into the air to keep the cats calm and happy! I had no idea this was going on. I wonder how morally wrong it would be to start a company that manufactured human happy hormones (HHH) and marketed them to large corporations? Imagine how much more productive your average office would be if it was full of happy chemicals. Maybe they already do this! I should start a conspiracy theory. No I should patent this and make millions. Actually before I do this I should probably do some research to make sure we're not going to have a repeat of the the time I thought I was going to become rich and famous by inventing the reverse microwave (hint: it is a freezer.) Anyway, if they don't already do this then get your grubby paws off my intellectual property. Get your grubby brain off my intellectual property. Get your filthy mind off my front porch.
I will think more about this and let you know how it goes.
(Also, I was editing a blog post yesterday when I saw I'd tagged it with 'not about me.' Out of interest, I clicked on the tag to see how many of my 27something entries are marked as such. ONE. So I'm going to tag this one, even though it's complete bollocks.)