Sunday, 5 April 2009

A Note From The Idiot

I am sorry to announce that we lost Consette in Colombia. She suffered a disillusionment of sorts, contemplated the point of her existence, and is now doing missionary work in the Amazon Rainforest.
She sends you all her deepest respects, and not an ounce of illegal cargo,

The Idiot

Monday, 23 March 2009


As from today, I shall be taking a Sabbati-week and half or so. Consette needs a break sometimes, and I will write when I can. But I probably won't.

Because as from Thursday I shall be in Colombia with the idiot, the parental unit, the fraternal unit, and the newly conceived Colombian in-law unit. Larks!

Consette x

Sunday, 22 March 2009


So at about 7pm we shuffled into the PS section of the library with the most tentative motions possible, sensitive and scholarly. On the way in, we passed this on the stairwell:


Girl who shouldn't be in library on phone: Hiya
[Suppressed anger evident in pout]
Little does he know man on end of phone presumably says: Hiya
Girl who shouldn't be in library on phone: Yes, yes, so how did you find last night?
[Twirls a curl around a little finger and smiles sarcastically]
Little does he know man on end of phone presumably says: Oh you know, good.
Girl who shouldn't be in library on phone: Don't you remember? We had this sort of argument.
[Deceptive, lighthearted snort]


And at 8pm we exited PS section, and there she was. With advancements.


Girl who shouldn't be in library on phone: But Danny this is the fucking problem, you just don't care do you? I have been thinking about this all fucking day and, well, you always do this. And then I wouldn't mind if it wasn't for what other people thought. What do you think they think Danny? When you treat me like shit. Like SHIT.
Knows a bit more man on end of phone presumably says: Arrgooyaaaerrrr. Um.
Girl who shouldn't be in library on phone: Yeah well I suppose I'm going to go now. But this conversation isn't OVER Danny.
[Crosses legs, gets comfortable]


Nice to have a little domestic on a Sunday. In a ruddy library.

Consette x

Saturday, 21 March 2009

Like a Kid on Jelly-Tots

She is so happy it's making me sick. She has no specific reason to be happy. Bitch thought she'd inflict it on the rest of us. I've put on some Leonard Cohen in an attempt to dilute this nauseating sunshine and smell of lavender oil.

I suppose the Hemingway essay is done and dusted, that must be it. In the last 10 minutes I've managed to unpick about 5 stitches in her argument, but I'm being tactful and staying quiet. I am a considerate Consette. Oh and that lunch, that too must have kicked the euphoria into shape. Then the result of the rugby which she didn't have time to watch in proper time, and a few youtube videos of people getting the first question wrong on Who Wants to be a Millionaire. Fuck off Patrick Wolf on shuffle. She will explode from over-stimulation. Said the actress to the...etc etc.

The parental unit sent us an email the other day from New York, saying 'NY is rather big. We are rather small.' There be the truth. And the idiot just spoke to Grandmother on the phone. It was a case of reassurance duty and transferral of generational information from the second generation through the third to the first, which I suppose reminded her of that weekend in the Shire spent making biscuits and playing Scrabble. I think she's quite looking forward to these holidays, to reading and writing (or, at least, the possibility of reading and writing if she so desires) and seeing the Somerset lot. And she's more positive in one particular area than before, which is more than can be said for me and Chunky Blonde. I am the realist I feel.

And Colombia. And a new love of music. And the discovery of La Roux, who joins the list of women who she would. Rebecca Hall is no longer on her lonesome.

Bolognaise time,

Consette x

Friday, 20 March 2009

The Snows of Izzy Lockhart Smith

No time no time no time. Hemingway consumes. She's almost finished. Can't finish now, though, there's a whole litre of cider to drink before the tri-racket ball tonight. Busy busy.

Consette x



Hkloncsetteh x
(Imaginary friend of Hklemh)

Wednesday, 18 March 2009


Head like an oil spill.

And who even cares if that works or not, Consette is fucking ill. Fuck and kill.

Consette x