Sounds of unfathomable unsuitablility

There were sounds generally resembling those of a disorganised spider walking on plates of upturned tripe. Then I opened my eyes and realised Bessy was practising, once again, for the spider walking on plates of spaghetti competition, with associated acoustic accompaniment. She needs more practice, clearly. Margaret was washing the inside of a tin soldier who'd once been fashioned as a Napoleon soldier but who now resembled a pacifist holding a sword in a state of confusion. Days are like this, I guess.

I discovered Felix in a state of some excitement having discovered there were ways to communicate unfathomable truths to uncomprehending people. I was rather alarmed, thinking there might be truths I preferred to be unfathomable that might one day be comprehensible to me. I didn't say anything but attempted through my body language to suggest this was an avenue not worth pursuing. Felix's body language told me he had fathomed my unfathomable bits...I left soon after for work.

George, I am pleased to say, was wearing his best dress and make up. He looked normal for once, which reassured me. I didn't engage in anything that might turn out to be complicated for once.

Cookie had spent the night dreaming of circumstances in which she was an unsuitable player in a game of lively inactivity. She decided today that our first patient would participate too, so we all sat motionless and thought things we might not have thought otherwise. It was great to be so alive and yet inactive.

Which brings me in a roundabout way to Bessy again: the plate will always contain tripe because life with pasta is simply unfathomable.