It's around this time of year that old Dive gets a touch of the lonelies.
I don't know what it is about witches but they seem to cast a spell over me (sorry). Come All Hallow's Eve, and I'm filled with irresistible cravings:
• baked apples with loads of cinnamon;
• all kinds of squash (sorry, Robyn);
• sweet chestnuts straight off the tree;
• gleefully kicking leaves all over the garden instead of raking them;
• shouting at small children who buy their costumes instead of making them;
• shouting at small children, period …
… but most of all, that old annual ennui, the deep, deep longing for the woman in black …
Be it Willow Rosenberg, Jill Thompson's wonderful Scary Godmother (above), Connie Booth with a root vegetable over her nose in Python's Holy Grail … there's just something about a witch that's, well … bewitching.
They're just a little bit kooky and a little bit spooky, and I like that in a girl.
That said; from where I have breakfast on a saturday morning*, I can see what they call the "alternative lifestyle" section of Otto's bookshop (where they keep the books on Wiccan practices). Sadly, the modern witch seems to be a dumpy woman in her late thirties who has forgotten to have children and daren't come out as gay.
The decline in standards seems to me symptomatic of the modern world. A witch who pigs junk food and watches reality TV when she should be dancing naked round a yew tree or setting fire to Edward Woodward in a big old basket.
A plea, then: (I've always thought advertising yourself was for pathetic losers, but if Sassy can do online dating, then I can do online pleading) …
If there are any of the stripey-tights brigade still out there who are as skinny as death and as weird-looking and spooky as the Corpse Bride, you know where to find me.
*The coffee shop upstairs at what used to be Ottakar's but is now the new Waterstone's bookshop, Norwich; nine a.m. every saturday.
No pointing and laughing!
19 comments:
Good luck with the plea--it made me laugh because I was envisioning you sitting at a table with a bunch of Corpse Bride types (I love that movie--just watchted it a couple of days ago).
Fall gets to me too, and I want to put pumpkin in everything. But I hate candy corn, and I always will.
I'm just glad I don't know what candy corn is.
And a table full of Corpse Bride types? Dive heaven.
Blogger hates me. This might post a couple of times. My apologies. Here's what I was trying to say:
Dive, you so aren't glad that you know what candy corn is. It's yummy (sorry Robyn). Best of luck in finding your bewitching skinnywitch. I'll wear my striped tights this weekend. I'm not skinny as death (not skinny period), but hopefully the tights will send some good witchy woman juju your way.
And, of course, I haven't had enough coffee to read what I actually wrote. What I meant to say is that you so aren't glad that you DON'T know what candy corn is.
Candy corn is the sugary snack from the good place.
Thanks, Sassy.
I think the skinny witches of the world are safe from me, though.
Other than Peahen (who might well make the three hour drive simply to point and laugh), the only girls who read this are half a world away (sigh) …
When I go on my Fluff hunt next tuesday (around Gloucester Road tube station, if your memory serves you right), I'll see if the shop sells candy corn, too.
I was at the vet yesterday and saw this woman wearing giant candy corn earrings and a big candy corn ponytail holder--it was a sight! I guess candy corn isn't that bad, but it reminds me of going trick-or-treating as a kid, and stopping by the old people houses where I knew I would not get chocolate--I would only get some nasty globby thing in orange waxed paper or a bag of candy corn.
Thanks, Robyn. You've given me a splendid idea for some twisted child cruelty.
I usually give out industrial quantities of chocolate (well I try not to; I like to eat it myself), but now that I'm older, I can legitimately give out horrid stuff like boiled sweets and old toffees!
Hee hee hee. Break out the Werthers; I'm really looking forward to Hello Ian Night now!
I admire you for actually hunting for this stuff. I'd just harness the power of the Internet and order it.
I think candied corn sounds like the glace'd contents of a chiropodists dustbin. Mmm sweet but strangely salty...
Can I put my vote in for the Corpse bride too... excellent movie, except that he should have stayed with the corpse, I reckon.
Dive, I'm so glad that you used that cartoon witch, rather than the strangely similar pic of me scaring small children this time last year!
Willow can go from hot but good, to sexy but evil, people underestimate the good acting in that show, I have issues with Wiccans and goths but mostly Wiccans that dress Goth, like the TV evangelist in the white suit with the big car, totally didn't get the message, a fluff hunt is that what you call it? well they have to make a living too.
Sassy: Where's the fun in that? The internet is for shouting about Republicans and laughing at Batman's willy.
Walking round strange parts of London with a fluff spear in my hand, who knows what else I might find?
Peahen: I'd forgotten that photo! I might post it yet … hee hee.
Old Knudsen: "Hot but good; sexy but evil"; let's just face it: Willow Rosenberg is hornier than a room full of rhinos!
And I find both Wiccans and Goths completely hilarious, but they know how to look goooood (at least the girls do) …
True, true. There will be more satisfaction in actually finding it.
If you do find it, I have to warn you: You are an adult. Eating too much Fluff past the age of twelve can be lethal.
Cool!
If I don't find me a witch this weekend, death by sugar rush will be a nice way to check out.
I don't fancy yours much!?!
http://www.flickr.com/photos/pointybunny/
279133407/in/photostream/
Come to that, neither do I, but beggars can't be choosers.
Oh, well …
Dod has a real talent for coming up with the goods, doesn't he? That picture reminds me of the old addage about being careful what you wish for...
I presume that said witchy bookshop-lurky blog-reading Norfolk girls shoud also enjoy sucking their thumbs...? (train stiffy)
Enjoy your sojourn into the city tommorow, and I hope there's an army of them waiting for you! Sorry I can't make it, but I promise that next time I see you I'll be wearing stripey tights ;-)
What will be waiting for me will be my saturday morning comfort-breakfast: An organic, Fairtrade latte with an extra shot, a big, fat, scrummy almond croissant and the Guardian Review.
If any woman goes near the Waccan books, I'll probably cak my pants.
Good luck with that, Dive.
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