Russell Kirkpatrick's Journal
It's Getting Crowdier
21-Dec-2006
I've invented a new word. Crowdier. That's what the local mall was this evening when we went searching for lots of things we couldn't find. 'Got a copy of Love Actually?' we asked the DVD store. 'Nope, sold out yesterday. But they were all $12.99.' Great. 'I'm looking for some Iain M. Banks. Got any?' we asked at the bookshop. 'Nope, but we have plenty of Iain Banks.' Double Great. 'Do you have those shorts in large?' we asked at the local department store. 'Nope, we only have them in Stuart Little and the Incredible Hulk sizes.' Argh.
I hate being a consumer. When I finally make up my mind as to what I want, no one can supply it. Meanwhile the mall gets crowdier by the minute.
At least I'm getting to see a sports injury specialist to load me up with cortisone. Oh, wait a minute, I'm not. I rang to book an appointment and the secretary tells me I don't have a referral. 'But what about the referral Fingers of Steel Melissa faxed you?' I asked. 'No record of any referral. Are you sure you have the right place?' No, I just rang you at random so we could have this inane chat. 'Well, I've only been here a week. The real secretary is on holiday. You can ring when she gets back, some time in January, and make an appointment then.'
Good-oh. Meanwhile my head gets crowdier.
On a cheerier note thanks heaps for my autographed carrot, when you are world wide famous on a par with Tolkien I will be able to show people my carrot Russell gave me.
Linda, my local bookseller, naged and nagged me until I agreed to put her in my next story. Naturally, knowing her well, I cast her in the role of a donkey. Having expected to be a slug, she was delighted with this.
So Chritsmas rolls around and Linda wants a present. I figured the best present for a donkey would be a carrot (though for some reason Linda expected a carot), so Dorinda made a lovely ortange carrot from felt. OK, a thistle might have been more apropos given Linda's prickly nature, but imagine making a thistle out of felt.
We gave Linda the carrot two days ago, and ever since it's been hanging on the Christmas tree in the shop window. When I went in yesterday Linda decided I ought to autograph it.
The hitman was probably hired by Karen because she didn't get a carrot.
See? Makes perfect sense.
If you put me as a donkey in a book of yours, I will put you as something worse in one of mine. Maybe as a morris dancer. My morris dancers need more names.