A blogpost in its early stages is like a toddler, gleefully waddling towards a particular destination before becoming distracted and suddenly veering off in a totally different direction.
Yesterday’s was one such post, a tale of lunchtime in the office that suddenly decided to poke fun at Irish food, poke a stick at porridge and end with a example of mischievous parenting from the last decade.
Anyway, as I started, we were in the kitchen trying to explain crubeens to two of the girls from overseas. One of them, a French girl, said that pigs’ ears were considered quite a delicacy on the continent. My face must have said “yuck” because the other girl said “no, they’re lovely, my sister’s dog loves to eat them.”
I opened my mouth to speak, closed it again and just sat obviously trying to hold in a laugh. They asked what was funny, and I refused to tell them. I refused to tell them that I had been about to say “yes, but your sister’s dog also loves to lick his own balls.”
I’m taking it as a sign that the derealisation is getting better. Six months ago I’d have said that out loud.