FOUND or LOST – in the upstairs bathroom, the one shared by the Curious George bedroom and the Very Hungry Caterpillar bedroom: this beautiful little miniature. Presumably was searching for fresh water and acacia leaves, and found itself stranded in the tub. Was rescued and now lives in the breast pocket of Selwyn’s Harris Tweed.
LOST – Um. On the coffee table, after a week away from Bell End, alongside Pia’s show catalogue and the stack of 70′s Health & Efficiency issues. But who is this? Forest Nymph, apparently, or some anagram thereof. All clues and sightings gratefully received.
FOUND - Selwyn’s front door key, yes, the one strung on a french Le Coq keyring which also contains the key to Marc Hundley‘s apartment in Williamsburg. Where? Stuck up the arse of the donkey piñata, of course. I mean, how could we have overlooked such an obvious location? The culprit? An extremely Marged up Casey Tierney at the Mexican night … only sheepishly recalled at Tomato Soup and Grilled Cheese night. But now Selwyn can’t find his car key. If all of last night’s guests could please check their rectal cavities for stray Bell End items, we’d be most grateful. Except you, Marc Hundley: we’re not looking for the entire woodwind section of the New York Philharmonic.
FOUND – These. Some kind of Native American hipster infant galoshes? Christ knows. Maybe somebody was trying to unload them? Still here they sit, on the shelf next to the 100% Wild Turkey. Obvious suspects include Heathermary Jackson, Jade Berreau, Constance Giamo and India Adams. Slink on over and get ‘em, be lovely to see you anyway.
FOUND - In Cecil Court, this skinny volume of poems by Robert Graves, from the war years. Also a baguette (slightly too blonde) from Tesco’s. The latter will soon contain a slice of Parma ham and some cheddar. The former contains the following:
She tells her love while half asleep,
In the dark hours,
With half words whispered low:
As earth stirs in her winter sleep
And puts out grass and flowers
Despite the snow,
Despite the falling snow.
LOST - Selwyn’s key to the gate and therefore the yard, the garbage cans and his private gateway to Narnia . Which begs the question: is somebody fucking with Selwyn, darlings?
FOUND – the boiler guy. Exhibiting amazing grace for a man of 300 lbs, he once was lost, but now is found. He’s a whimsical fellow with a wry sense of humour and a large album of self-portraits in manifold trysts with heating devices, and other acts of derring-do: including, but not limited to, stuff requiring him to be clad, walrus-like, in a wetsuit. You can only imagine.
LOST - a hole in the wall in the basement which would be the ideal place to shove a vent for a dryer, which would then snuggle up against the washing machine; which, despite being operational in its own right, is functionally useless without its hot-aired sibling.
LOST - the electrician to address the problem of the absence of the vent-hole for the dryer, she swallowed the dog to catch the cat, she swallowed the cat to catch the bird, she swallowed the bird to catch the spider.
LOST – Selwyn’s heart, to the foxy, punk rock oompa-loompa from Choice Market and the bushy-tailed vixen from Chuko, busily storing acorns away for the winter. Two radiant, cackling harpies, unknowingly engaged in a fearsome tug o’ war over the sad, wounded, sclerotic organ: it – thus Selwyn – risks being rent asunder. Please bring rolls of Brawny.