[…]

I had to get an ironing board this morning. I went to an underground supermarket. Many ironing boards are peculiar here in that they have very short legs. You sit on the floor and do yr ironing. I have been doing that for some time now and am fed up with it.

I keep getting this image of an insane girl kneeling on the floor, with blood all around her mouth, and I think maybe she is doing the ironing. I think it might’ve been from a movie and quite a bit different from how I remember it… nevertheless.

On the other hand the standard western sized board is overkill — I don’t have that much personal space to be devoting to ironing. There is a happy medium – a man can stand up but the board is only a metre or something. I was so happy to find one of these because I had been looking here and there and in the cyber-reality even.

At the exact same moment that I picked it up some music by the tarantulas came on over the inhouse PA system.

It was as if Surf’s Up right there and then.

I got my camera out and got one of the sample chix to take the fotos of me jumping with the board, like I was about to launch into the water.
I did ‘The Swim’, The Twist, The Pony, The Bird, The Mashed Potato, The Watusi, The Ska, The Monkey, The Tighten Up and a bit of Pogo-ing for good measure.

Unfortunately, as I mentioned earlier my camera is on the fritz, in the process of buying the farm, giving up the ghost, going down with the ship, on its deathbed, in its death throes, bowing out, exit stage left. So this is all I got.

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