( My continuing journey towards Full-timeness )
# 6 … in which I get to eat cake!
I have just emerged head-first from a bookwormhole. I would like to say that I performed this particular manoeuvre with a perfect parachute roll. Unfortunately I have landed arse-over-tit in a most undignified heap.
I clamber to my feet and dust myself down. This seems a very strange place. Surely this can’t be Full-timeness. I am in a room. The Room is full of books. Piles of books. All sorts.
I suddenly realise that I’m feeling a bit peckish. That’s what happens when you stand next to a pile of cookery books.
Fortunately, the floor is covered with cakes. Yes, cakes. Lots of lovely little cakes with books on. This is good.
I venture an exploratory nibble. Very good. I stuff a whole one into my mouth. Then another. And another. It’s the sort of thing any respectable person must do. Eat cakes.
Then a familiar voice asks me a question …
Why are you eating bookworm droppings ?
It’s not the sort of question that generally occurs in everyday conversation. I consider my reply carefully. A measured response is clearly called for. So I give it my best shot.
WHAT THE FUCK !!
I’ve never been one to be over critical. I was just wondering why you’re stuffing bookworm turds down your throat like there’s no tomorrow.
You mean I’ve been eating bookworm shit. I think I’m probably about to throw up.
Hi. Is my brother bothering you again ?
He says that I’ve been consuming … literary crap.
He’s kidding. He tries the same old joke on everyone.
They really are cakes.
Right. Well, in that case I’ll have a few more while you tell me exactly where we are.
And so, with a mouthful of cake, the truth is revealed to me.