Breastgot
Prescott
It’s taking me a while to catch up with actual events happening and me posting them up here. I went to Prescott the other day.
Prescott reminds me of where my grandparents live. It has all the positive sides of life, such as clean air, no noise pollution, amazing stars at night, incredible skyscapes in the day. But it also makes me consider living there, which strikes fear in my heart.
Appropriately, my heart is the relevant place for this fear. If, for example, I had a horrendous heart attack, I would be concerned about the distance I would be from the nearest heartspital. This would cause even more stress, and may even bring on a further heart spazm, irreparably melting my platelet-pump to a platelet pulp before they even get the shocks on me.
It’s also so quiet I can’t hear myself think. And there are gen’yeine bone fide RATTLESNAKES there. All rattly and belly-y. No thanks.
My grandparents live in Halwill Junction, 20 miles from Bude. This hamlet – literally no more than a junction – boasts a post office, a ‘convenience store’ (never before have I realised this could be so literal) and a pub. Which used to be the train station. The only truly feasible way of leaving via public transport. It used to house a rather nice bed and breakfast, which closed. Alas, no more breakfast in bed. But breakfast inbred is likely still to be extremely common.
I ate an item called a pollo. It was so good. So so good. Not so good for vegetarians, or those on a diet. I felt my heart tighten with every wonderful gobfull. But, of course, I was in Prescott. And as we have learned, this is a stupid place to have a heart attack.
It’s taking me a while to catch up with actual events happening and me posting them up here. I went to Prescott the other day.
Prescott reminds me of where my grandparents live. It has all the positive sides of life, such as clean air, no noise pollution, amazing stars at night, incredible skyscapes in the day. But it also makes me consider living there, which strikes fear in my heart.
Appropriately, my heart is the relevant place for this fear. If, for example, I had a horrendous heart attack, I would be concerned about the distance I would be from the nearest heartspital. This would cause even more stress, and may even bring on a further heart spazm, irreparably melting my platelet-pump to a platelet pulp before they even get the shocks on me.
It’s also so quiet I can’t hear myself think. And there are gen’yeine bone fide RATTLESNAKES there. All rattly and belly-y. No thanks.
My grandparents live in Halwill Junction, 20 miles from Bude. This hamlet – literally no more than a junction – boasts a post office, a ‘convenience store’ (never before have I realised this could be so literal) and a pub. Which used to be the train station. The only truly feasible way of leaving via public transport. It used to house a rather nice bed and breakfast, which closed. Alas, no more breakfast in bed. But breakfast inbred is likely still to be extremely common.
I ate an item called a pollo. It was so good. So so good. Not so good for vegetarians, or those on a diet. I felt my heart tighten with every wonderful gobfull. But, of course, I was in Prescott. And as we have learned, this is a stupid place to have a heart attack.
posted by JS at 2:58 PM
2 Comments:
Was it pollo en la chichi?
Charlie, John learned this weekend that 'pollo' means 'chicken'. So John, 'pollo en la chichi' means 'chicken in a breast'. Hot.
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