Procrastination is a nasty, nasty thing. Having said that, it can also lead to some cool discoveries that I would not have made if I hadn’t been wasting time in the first place. Take last weekend, for instance. Oh the great plans I had, including to finally catch THAT movie I’ve been planning to watch at the cinema and attending an acoustic gig by a lady with a beautiful voice and trying the food at a particular restaurant that I know I will love given the owner’s true love and knowledge of food.
You would think that out of a list of three items I’d have managed to scratch off at least one. But no, procrastination – coupled with the typical September uber weird weather that leaves me totally apathetic to everything around me – had its way. So lots of movies, reading, fussing with Surrogate Dog, G&Ts, cappuccinos and calorie-fuls of yummy, homemade (not by me) food it was.
The weekend did yield two discoveries, however. The first – which you won’t care about but I’ll list anyway – is that it’s time for my next inking. I guess that an afternoon of G&Ts had to leave its mark somewhere. A mark made out of (thankfully water-based) black ink as you can see from the pic above. Fooling around always leads somewhere and my somewhere showed me that A: I want a shoulder tattoo, not too tribal and not to aggressive, preferably with a nature theme entwined somewhere there, and, B: thanks to my chosen profession and Maltese weather there is no way I am going to get away with a whole shoulder tat. Can you picture me wearing long sleeves to meetings when the temperature outside is 35 degrees? Thought not. A compromise will need to be found, as usual.
On to the second discovery, which you will probably find more interesting. Anyone here a fan of the P.G. Wodehouse books? I spent the years between 13 and 15 laughing my guts out at this genius’ depiction of a young English aristo called Bertie Wooster and his ineffable valet Jeeves. That’s right, where did you think the expression ‘ask Jeeves’ originated from? To cut a long story short, Wooster is a couple of watts short of a lightbulb and manages to pass a highly pleasant existence doing sweet F.A. (as most English aristos tend to do) while Jeeves extricates him from mess after sorry mess with a cunning that is positively Macchiavellian. In modern days, Jeeves would probably have been a highly successful con artist. In early twentieth century London he made the perfect manservant.
I can’t for the life of me fathom how this came to be, but it was only this weekend, thanks to B, that I discovered there is a whole TV series based on these books. The show is called – surprise surprise – Jeeves and Wooster and stars none other than Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry in the title roles. No prizes for guessing which is which.
And like anything featuring these two gents, it is pure awesome. Every single “I say, old chap”, “Dash it all” and “Fiddlesticks and balderdash” that comes out of Laurie’s lips bypasses the adult and mature part of my brain (if such a thing exists, and looking at the above pic it’s highly debatable) and goes straight to my funny bone. Every single one of Fry’s raised eyebrows achieves the same result.
How I never discovered this show in all these years, given my weakness for old English humour, is beyond me. Ah well, it only took a wasted (wasted as in time-wise as opposed to booze-wise) weekend to open my eyes.
Thank you, procrastination.