Friday, 19 February 2010

All is brown exploding into grey infinity

Reason notwithstanding, the universe continues unabated.

My life continues to barrel along at breakneck speed, a dizzying blur of procrastineering, putting receipts in bags and passing out drunk. The Luncheon Club Dedicated To The Destruction Of Stuff has been victorious two weeks running now, a glorious accomplishment that I feel I would celebrate more, had I actually been involved in the slightest way at all. I was still on my way back from the GT when No-Face choked on luncheon-shaped justice; and I missed out on the smiting of Skeletor and his Minions last weekend due to the realisation of a plan that had been some 18 months in the making...

Not that it was a particularly intricate plan. At my grandad's funeral back in 2008, Doctor Sister suggested that it might be nice if all the Brooks cousins could get together for a reason that didn't involve death or marriage for a change, and noisily proclaimed that she would play host. We all decided this was a super idea, and so agreed to get ourselves organised and make it happen. The next time we all met, it would not involve death or marriage.

The next time we all met was at cousin Anita's wedding last year. It was broadly agreed that we'd made a bit of a hash of the whole thing, and that we should definitely get together for a reason that didn't involve death or marriage.

And much to our collective surprise, it actually happened last weekend when everyone turned up on my sister's doorstep at lunchtime - apart from me. I rocked up about an hour and a half after everyone else, owing to the fact that there are better things to be doing at 9am than driving 100 miles down the M4. Snoozing, for example.

In any case, a good time was had by all. There was much drinking and merriment, delicious little duck-filled spring rolls, and no grown-ups. Not proper ones, anyway. The day ended with Doctor Sister attempting to orchestrate the reconstruction of an old photo of all of us, that I think was taken about eighteen years ago at grandad's house.

And here's the 2010 version...

Close enough, I reckon.

1 comment:

Marianne said...

I'm SO getting you an Ermintrude tshirt for your birthday.