Golanga

Or I think that’s the word anyway. I made the mistake of looking confused whilst on the High Street yesterday during the Continental Market and a little foreign man accosted me. He was hard to understand (I have a nasty cold, hence the confusion in the first place), but I heard the words ‘monk’, ‘good works’, ‘spare change’, etc. so dug out a couple quid for him. Then he asked me to say the above word, which apparently means ‘be happy’, in sanscrit I assume. He handed me a nice little Krishna prayer book, and suddenly I felt like a cheap b*st*rd.

The book is called, Teachings of Queen Kunti. Let’s open ‘er up and glean some wisdom..chapter three is entitled, “The Most Intelligent Woman,” that sounds promising…or perhaps not: “Kuntidevi humbly submits, ‘…But what are we? We are simply women. We are in a lower class. How can we understand you?’ Although she understands everything, she still takes the position of an ordinary woman and says, ‘How can I understand you?’ This is humility.” Right, so throughout history and continuing today, women keep mum about their insights. Whether due to self-repression or being repressed by others, the world doesn’t benefit from their wisdom. And we still bemoan the fact that our technological advances continually outstrip our social progress. Annnyway, moving on, lest I go on a feme-rant..the rest of the book is about the general awesomeness of Krishna, which I really have no opinion on. There were some nice color prints in the middle with him being a naughty child, which is nifty I suppose.

This week was very exciting. James and I got our first *new* major pieces of furniture, and we did really need them–a sofa and a bed. Our old sofa was from a charity shop, was totally torn and horrid, and had no support, which is bad because I frequently sleep out on the couch. What, I’m odd. The new sofa is massive and more than long enough for me to lay on. It’s corduroy because I thought that would be nice and substantial without being something the cats would want to use as a scratching post. Our bed was not even a full double size, and was also from a charity shop. It wasn’t until it was delivered that I realized that it was practically dripping human funk, and I had to completely wrap it in impermeable material to tolerate it. Our new bed is king-sized, which in America is actually Queen, but still! It can hold two people and a cat or two. I suppose it’s slightly less exciting that they’re Ikea items, but I refuse to pay normal retail. Peectures:

Some more photos, just because…


Nyssa at Ikea, doing her thing.


Nyssa in the streets, doing her thing…


Mommy, having wrangled a Nyssa to steal her warmth.


Last week my twitter told you that there was a feris wheel behind my house–here is the proof.


I also told you on my twitter that I was in love with the man who freely gaveth the baklava. Here he is, giving it away on the streets. *straightface* Seriously though, I managed to make it through four days of continental market without buying any of that hiney-enhancer of the debbil. I do love it so.


I took the fabric off one of the old couch cushions, which they liked to scratch, and put it on a nasty old woven stool, which they liked to scratch. I thought this would make the perfect scratching toy, and I think I can be forgiven for thinking so. I even sprayed it with catnip. Mitu loved it up big time, must be the source of his unearthly glow, but a claw has yet to penetrate the thing. *sigh*

Nyssa did a most amazing thing this morning. I was asleep on the couch and having a terrifying dream about Joseph being most likely killed, having fallen off the side of a building. Just as I was about to uncover a silver cloth that confirmed my fears and completely lose it, I felt something gentle on my back and slowly drifted awake to find Nyssa sitting behind me petting my back. She does mind-bendingly emotionally intuitive things like sometimes. Lovely creature 🙂

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