Small things (in pots) amuse small minds...

I never thought I'd get so excited about buying some plants. In pots.

 

But - as with a fine woman - it's the thrill of the chase, I suppose.

 

To cut a long (and tediously boring) story short - I decided my apartment was too bare. Dozens of DVD's and CD's and 'Prog Rock' magazines lying about don't count, so it struck me it all needed warming up, making it more homely, rather than the obvious residence of a 50-year old bloke with an unhealthy love for music that some say should have died out with Diplodocus.

 

Anyway (I can't believe I'm writing about this bollocks) after some searching and much walking, I found the equivalent of a small 'garden centre' tucked away in the shadow of a giant Lufthansa shopping centre. In reality, a family selling a few plants. It was dark, and they were obviously about to go home when I arrived.

 

The only thing he could say was "beautiful", which he repeated incessantly - I assumed he was referring to any plant I looked at, and not my own devastating, rugged, Bond-type good looks.

 

In the end, I bought 4, which weighed a ton, and I excitedly carried them back to Chateau Grumpy. I haven't a clue what they are, but I'm assured they will be "beautiful", in the same way Bernard Matthews says his turkey tits are "bootiful". I've moved them around my apartment several times, but after 24 hours, they haven't sprung giant triffid-like flowers yet. One looks a bit like a pineapple, so maybe I've bought fruit trees that need planting outside. Maybe they are harbouring giant spiders? I should look, with an umbrella in my hand, ready to batter it before it leaps for my throat. Is that what deadly spiders do?

 

I can't believe I'm writing this bollocks. I must be bored. Buying the plants is one thing, getting so excited about them is another. Telling thousands of people about it all takes it to another level of stupidity.

 

(By the way, I'm listening to a live version of Marillion's 'Misplaced Childhhod' as I'm writing this, which makes me even sadder. There will be a most excellent guitar riff in a moment, and I may have to stand to 'air guitar' it to a rapturous applause from the audience....hang on a moment...

 

....yes, they went wild. I was good. Note perfect.)

 

But why do plant pots have holes in the bottom? Won't all the water come out? No sweat - I have a brain the size of a planet, so I've stood them on some plates from my kitchen. It knackers up the colour scheme, admittedly, and I bet the cleaner will put them back in the cupboard, in the same way she puts my socks back in the wash basket.

 

Why am I telling you this shit?

 

Anyway....music....

 

Current play list annoying the neighbours:

 

• Fish - Misplaced Childhood (Live)
• Steven Wilson - Grace for Drowning
• Ian Anderson - Thick as a Brick 2 (shite)
• Pearl Jam - Any live version of 'Even Flow' (I can even play the solo with the guitar behind my head)
• Ben Howard - Every Kingdom (Stunning beyond words)
• Marillion - Sounds that can't be made

Robert Plant said "New York - goodnight" (Led Zeppelin - 'The song remains the same')

 

I say "Bedtime....goodnight from Beijing"