This Is Not A
Date: 01/04/18 (after 12 noon)
One of my favourite forms of relaxation is to nap on the sofa of an afternoon after I've come home from digging the Depratment out of yet another shit-pit caused by the inadequacies of its procedures and its technology.
Actually, it's one of my favourite forms of relaxation at any other time too.
As I have to take my glasses off for this pleasing exercise, and as I am very short-sighted, it means that anything more than a few inches away becomes indistinct. This has led me to discover three curious things about the pattern on my sofa.
Said sofa is a two-seater - part of a three-piece suite bought for £300 by my mother from a couple of earnest Irishmen in a white van some twenty-five or more years ago - which thereby requires a certain amount of contortion to get into a comfortable position, even for someone who is only five-foot-eight-and-a-bit (1.72m). It means that I can only get cosy under my fluffy blue throw if I'm lying on my right side facing the back of the sofa.
The pattern, when viewed in the customary way, is one of the standard, flowers-and-leaves type. When viewed in the uncustomary blurred fashion, other images seem to emerge.
The first one I noticed was almost right in front of my nose:
I was immediately struck by its resemblance to a map of North Wales:
(What the people of Ynys Môn might make of being in blue I don't know, although they did elect a Tory MP a couple of times, one who ended up - briefly - in prison and underwent an almost Aitkenian conversion to social liberalism).
A little further away from my conk - and a little more ambiguous as a result - appears to be Felix The Cat:
And finally - and I admit that this is a bit of a stretch (fabric) - something which looks a bit like a scowling Hitler, but with a pig's snout:
W-e-l-l-l, I think so, anyway.