Tuesday, February 09, 2010

Nothing is real




As Valentine's Day approaches, here's some cheery news from The Greek Reporter. Just when you thought that there was no confectionery Everest left unconquered, Greek Australian pharmacist Paul Xinos brings new meaning to the term 'iconic'. Or perhaps I mean 'ironic'. The terms are more or less interchangeable these days.

The strawberry, symbol of romance and pleasure has been reinterpreted for an audience who likes its metaphors ambiguity-free. This horticultural Einstein has perfected the heart-shaped strawberry.

Apparently the variation is achieved with an innovative combination of methodologies. It involves a physical process not a million miles from an ancient Chinese foot-binding technique and Barry Manilow on continuous rotation.

There will be no strawberries at Seat of Pants this weekend as I'm afraid D.I.V.O.R.C.E. proceedings are underway. Not from Barney I hasten to assure, although his zeal to perfect the heart-shaped sardine has been not a little disruptive. It has been worth it as he will be unveiling his new cocktail, the vodka sardini, at his Goblet of Fire chain this weekend. Needless to say, it's not for the faint-shaped heart.

The rift is between me and my erstwhile team of mentors at the Larrikin's End School Fine Arts and Advanced Macrame. I'm afraid I have woven my last Swiss cheese plant basket.

The rules about what you do and do not have to pay for in the Australian education system vary from year to year and register slightly above string theory on the difficulty of grasp scale. The comfort of string theory is that there are at least some people in the world who are solid on the basic principles. A cornerstone of my fiscal prudence strategy is never to agree to buy something from anyone who cannot tell you how much it will cost, at least to the nearest thousand.

The bottom line, quite literally, is that continuing with the course may have culminated in financial ruin on my part. Believe me, you do not ever want to cede the moral high ground and your ongoing viability to a hypoallergenic owly-cat you bought from a dodgy internet site. I have vowed to at least maintain autonomy over my purse-strings, even if I don't seem to have control over anything else.

I have to admit to a certain amount of relief. Although I often did quite well, this served more to confirm that my head was being severely messed with. It felt like mental cruelty a lot of the time. More on this later as, for the moment, Toshie is still in surgery and the Larrikin's End Municipal Library strictly limits internet access for reasons that are not clear as demand is confined to me and the occasional German back-packer.

As discerning Australians celebrate their deep and profound adoration for each other this year through the medium of parfait, I will be once again engaged in the conundrum of what to do with the rest of my life while serving a very fishy concoction to a band of seedy undesirables...