I am ill again
which blows beyond all natural comprehension. How I manage this a mere four weeks after getting over bronchitis, I have no idea. Blah. Have a random post in lieu of whining (which you should take as given is happening in my head).
My top five favourite boiled sweets:
5. Kola Kubes.
God. Fabulous. Also pineapple kubes because they are great as well.
4. Unidentified fruit/chewy things.
I can't remember what they're called but they're long and thin and when you get to the middle they go soft and chewy and it's a fruit explosion in the mouth. Come in (strangely posh) double wrappings of paper.
3. Orange and Lemon slices.
Boiled sweets shaped like slices. In the flavours of orange, and indeed, lemon. The clue is in the title with these.
2. Barley Sugar.
Eat too many and your mouth starts to resemble a puddle of treacle-like consistency but so
1. Pear Drops.
Need I say more? I mean, come on. Apart from when you inhale the pear fumes and start coughing and can't stop for half an hour because they've invaded your lungs. That's not always so good but can cause much hilarity in the right circumstances.
There. I'm sure you all wanted to know about my boiled sweet preferences. Next up -
I have discovered the ultimate Gary Stu. Oh yes I have and I defy anyone to come up with anyone more Sue or Stu-like in the history of literature, ever
. It is Oliver Twist. This conclusion of his unbearable Stu-ness was made apparent to me as I read the book a few days ago for the first time in years. And there it is. He's an orphan. He grows up in horrible poverty and cruelty and starves, yet still has the 'spirit' to ask for more food and take the consequences. Even though he often wishes that he could die, there is still something inside him that bravely makes him soldier on. He has the guts to run away to London on his own and even though he's befriended by the wrong crowd, he hates stealing and would rather die than do it. He is beautiful and innocent-looking. He gets shot. He nearly dies of fever twice. Every good person loves him. When he is looked after by good people, he frolics around the fields and picks flowers and does everything he can to be helpful and useful and good and perfect. He studies hard. He hates no one. He shares his inheritance - when he gets it - with the evil half-brother who a) has no legal right to it and b) has tried to swindle Oliver out of it forever/keep him associating with thieves and murderers/hide his true identity/kill him. And despite being illegitimate, no one cares and no stigma is attached to him.
Gay little git. Give me the Dodger anyday. Still, awesome book.
Two reasons why I adore the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy
1. Brockian Ultra-Cricket
2. 'You're a no-good dumbo nothing. I just thought you should know that before you died.'