Episode 161: Stolen Sausages

My faith in humanity continues to erode. After stolen salt, stolen black pepper, stolen cooking oil, and stolen Ikea frying pan, ladies and gentlemen, I give you stolen sausages. Yes, both jars have disappeared, the opened one in the fridge and the sealed one in the kitchen cupboard. Sigh. That was possibly the worst part of my day. I did manage to get stuff done though, like my laundry. I even boiled enough pasta to get me through the rest of the week, which was also when I discovered the missing sausages. I even found a poem for Jim's seminar on Thursday. It's D. J. Enright's 'The Noodle-Vendor's Flute', which Mr Purvis gave to us once upon a time. I picked it because I was just searching for poets who'd published in the 1960s, and I realised that Enright was born in Leamington Spa. Coupled with the fact that he lectured at NUS, it seems like Enright is a poet whose historical path lies at a curious tangent to mine. That and the poem is pretty interesting! I've just finished typing out my presentation for tomorrow's EN122 seminar. It's a bit narrower in scope than I'd originally envisioned, but well, I don't think I really have to give a very long spiel during the seminar, so what I've got should be plenty. Now all that's left for the week is to write that damn radio play, which I've got some vague ideas for, but haven't worked out fully. Laura suggested meeting up to have a writing and recording session tomorrow after our seminars, which sounds like an awesome idea, so hopefully that works out.