Muesli Slush – new age detective
June 30, 2011 § Leave a comment
It was a sticky Bangkok morning, the soya milk slowly curdling to tofu… one of those mornings when the blue haze of frying pork hung in the Soi like last week’s washing. Muesli Slush peeled a mango and gazed into the valley of skyscrapers.
To look at him you would think he was just an ordinary, everyday, middle-aged, balding child of the sixties – and in actual fact, that is exactly what he was – nothing more nothing less.
The orange light on the boiler winked on, off, on, off, indicating the water inside was at it’s maximum – tantalisingly close to boiling point, but just not quite there. Having read ‘Zen and the art of the Tea Ceremony’ many years previously, Muesli had developed the patience and dedication required, under all circumstances, to obtain the perfect cup of tea. He swung into action – dribbling a little into each cup and swilling round to mitigate the cooling effect of the ceramic. When operating within these close margins every precious degree and every second counted – he had to move fast. Beads of sweat rolled down his ample forehead marginally hotter than the infusion, but sadly of no use, having too high a saline content. With a paper tab between each index finger and thumb, he worked his arms like slow motion steam hammers – lifting each bag alternately clear of the water to optimize filtration – poetry in motion.
Schubert’s’ Trout Quintet for Washing Machine’ broke through the steady drone of the air-con, as program J came to its inevitable conclusion. Muesli grasped the seams of his drooping fisherman’s pants at knee level and went into his regular dance of joy, hopping nimbly from one foot to the other. He didn’t know where this ritual had come from, he just knew he had to do it – ‘and why not?’, he said as he caught himself in the mirror, ‘no-one is looking’ – he laughed in the face of obsessive compulsive disorder.