And so it begins, the busiest working week of the year. This morning has been a wonderful rush of questions, with paper flying from printers and copiers, people dashing from office to office, urgent phone calls and emails and everywhere there are marks.
It is my favourite time of year, I love the panic and the urgency, the constant deadlines and hurried meetings, but only because it lasts for a comparatively short time. If life was like this every day I would have burnt out rather quickly a while ago.
Most of all I love the day of the classification meeting. I rush from printer to computer, meeting to meeting, taking endless phone calls and making copious notes. Then there is the quiet of the classification, before the most nerve racking part of the whole process - where I write the pass list. It gets checked, and checked, and checked again, before I walk out into the sunshine, mafia style flanked by my assistants, list in hand. The mass of students before me supercharge the air with emotions, those few minutes pass in slow motion.
Nothing beats the shouts, the grins, the smiles and hugs and kisses, those gloriously happy faces. It fills your heart and all the stresses and the strains of the previous week wash away. Those smiles, they more than make it worth the effort.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Monday, June 12, 2006
bournemouth bound
Although more solid looking than Brighton's piers, Bournemouth pier doesn't have quite the same beauty. I decided this whilst sitting on the deck of West Beach restaurant, glass of wine in hand and gazing out across the glorious sandy beach and blue sea on Saturday evening. It was the perfect place to be sitting, sunshine beating down on my burnt nose and forehead, whilst I looked over the menu.
In the end I decided on white mushroom soup to start, followed by halibut cooked in a red wine sauce with mash and asparagus. By this time we had moved in from the deck to get away from the sudden and raucous chants of those inescapable football fans; drenched in Stella and swaying.
The food was delicious and made the perfect stop gap between Monkey World and the Pier Theatre. I suspect, however, that our later plan of cocktails at Hot Rocks was a mistake. Sickly and far too sweet, they cloyed to our tastebuds like toffee to teeth. Of course, that didn't stop us from having a second, just to make sure they didn't improve with time. Again, a mistake. They most definitely did not. But a small price to pay for such a splendid day.
In the end I decided on white mushroom soup to start, followed by halibut cooked in a red wine sauce with mash and asparagus. By this time we had moved in from the deck to get away from the sudden and raucous chants of those inescapable football fans; drenched in Stella and swaying.
The food was delicious and made the perfect stop gap between Monkey World and the Pier Theatre. I suspect, however, that our later plan of cocktails at Hot Rocks was a mistake. Sickly and far too sweet, they cloyed to our tastebuds like toffee to teeth. Of course, that didn't stop us from having a second, just to make sure they didn't improve with time. Again, a mistake. They most definitely did not. But a small price to pay for such a splendid day.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
distraction
The news that the assessment boycott has been suspended whilst members of the UCU vote on the pay deal means that my workload is now at full tilt, exam scripts piling up left, right and centre and marks flying in at rapid rates. Despite this sudden influx I find myself severely distracted this week, something not helped by the bug I seem to have picked up.
I spent yesterday curled up in a small and sorry state, trying hard to swallow orange juice and all things good, whilst my throat burnt as if I had swallowed acid. I am, even now, dosed up on aspirin, sucking on plums and guzzling down vitamin-c laden drink to keep the germs at bay. But I know that it is not the germs that are distracting me.
Out of my office window the sky is a perfect duck egg blue. The sky light dapples through the leaves, which gently wave in the breeze; dancing on the end of their supple branches. There is that glorious smell of cut grass, the distant hum of conversation and the occasional lobster-red shoulders of sun worshippers. Of course, as lovely as it is to finally have summer here, it isn't that which is distracting me.
I know what it is that makes me smile through the day, what makes my heart sing and my spine tingle with excitement. And I know that, in my heart of hearts, I don't really mind being distracted at all because, you see, it's wonderful to be me; I am quite ridiculously happy.
I spent yesterday curled up in a small and sorry state, trying hard to swallow orange juice and all things good, whilst my throat burnt as if I had swallowed acid. I am, even now, dosed up on aspirin, sucking on plums and guzzling down vitamin-c laden drink to keep the germs at bay. But I know that it is not the germs that are distracting me.
Out of my office window the sky is a perfect duck egg blue. The sky light dapples through the leaves, which gently wave in the breeze; dancing on the end of their supple branches. There is that glorious smell of cut grass, the distant hum of conversation and the occasional lobster-red shoulders of sun worshippers. Of course, as lovely as it is to finally have summer here, it isn't that which is distracting me.
I know what it is that makes me smile through the day, what makes my heart sing and my spine tingle with excitement. And I know that, in my heart of hearts, I don't really mind being distracted at all because, you see, it's wonderful to be me; I am quite ridiculously happy.
Monday, June 05, 2006
brighton frocks
On Saturday, Katharine and I downed glasses of white wine and headed out, in true Ab Fab style, to the Brighton Frocks Show at the Concorde. Despite having a 7pm start on the ticket, we found the place remarkably empty when we arrived, and having refilled our glasses a number of times, easily managed to get a front row spot overlooking the catwalk.
Just over an hour, and much wine later, the show started. An array of Brighton based designers showing off their new creations, with the majority being exciting designs. I was greatly impressed by the fabulously frilly knickers of Ophelia Fancy, who brought ballet and tap dancers to the catwalk. Fetique put on a fabulous show, with the most uncomfortable pair of shoes I've ever seen and a lovely blonde writhing for the cameras.
Two hours passed remarkably quickly, as we were shown a wide range of designs to suit any taste. At the introduction it was mentioned that within two years, Brighton Frocks hope to run a Brighton Fashion Weekend. With so many exciting designers I can see this as a possibility, and look forward to next year.
We finished off the evening with dinner at Zafferelli's and, naturally, another bottle of wine. After all, these things have to be done properly!
Just over an hour, and much wine later, the show started. An array of Brighton based designers showing off their new creations, with the majority being exciting designs. I was greatly impressed by the fabulously frilly knickers of Ophelia Fancy, who brought ballet and tap dancers to the catwalk. Fetique put on a fabulous show, with the most uncomfortable pair of shoes I've ever seen and a lovely blonde writhing for the cameras.
Two hours passed remarkably quickly, as we were shown a wide range of designs to suit any taste. At the introduction it was mentioned that within two years, Brighton Frocks hope to run a Brighton Fashion Weekend. With so many exciting designers I can see this as a possibility, and look forward to next year.
We finished off the evening with dinner at Zafferelli's and, naturally, another bottle of wine. After all, these things have to be done properly!
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
moth to the flame
Last night Tom and I went to see his aunt sing. We caught up with the lovely Katharine and Rich, that charming chap James and Evil Pete, who is obviously not evil at all. Vic normally sings with a band, but last night went acoustic with only Chris on keyboard. She sings beautifully, making goosebumps rise on my arms and my spine tingle. With only time for two songs it was difficult to get an idea of just how good she is, but Moth are playing the Komedia on 28th July and I fully intend to be there.
We headed off before the end of the evening to fill our empty stomachs at Wagamama. It was almost eerie, sitting there with only two other people and the whole restaurant in comparative silence. But observing my surroundings was shortlived, as talk came round to the precipice we find ourselves standing on. There are times when I can hear the pebbles rush down the sides, gathering pace and clicking against each other. The world is a whirl of excitement. I can feel it as I look over the edge, and know that any minute I shall start to slip and slide and rush down with the pebbles, over the edge and onto the next adventure, onto a different ground.
It was no wonder that I woke early, walked along the quiet streets with blue sky and warm sun on my back, smiling up in wonder. Today I will find beauty in unexpected places, today I will find each smile makes my fingers tingle, my spine shiver. But it won't just be today. I think this adventure is here to stay.
We headed off before the end of the evening to fill our empty stomachs at Wagamama. It was almost eerie, sitting there with only two other people and the whole restaurant in comparative silence. But observing my surroundings was shortlived, as talk came round to the precipice we find ourselves standing on. There are times when I can hear the pebbles rush down the sides, gathering pace and clicking against each other. The world is a whirl of excitement. I can feel it as I look over the edge, and know that any minute I shall start to slip and slide and rush down with the pebbles, over the edge and onto the next adventure, onto a different ground.
It was no wonder that I woke early, walked along the quiet streets with blue sky and warm sun on my back, smiling up in wonder. Today I will find beauty in unexpected places, today I will find each smile makes my fingers tingle, my spine shiver. But it won't just be today. I think this adventure is here to stay.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
six days of relaxation
Chelsea was great! We were lucky with the weather and managed to avoid the two major rain showers by either eating lunch or hiding away in the large marquee, wandering amongst the displays. I found some amazing mirrored sculptures, beautiful hanging seats and found myself inspired by the gardens. It was so interesting to see the designs and planting up close, to see what effects they had on people, how they impressed or disappointed.
After a glorious day exploring the gardens, plants and stopping for a drink in Covent Garden, Mum and I dropped in on Ping Pong, as recommended by Tom and Sprink. Delicious little dumplings of steamed goodness, and a bottle of red between us, filled us and let us rest our aching feet before catching the train home to Brighton.
Friday was probably one of the best evenings I've had. If I said that the food at the Seven Dials Restaurant was delicious and the company fantastic, it wouldn't go anywhere near explaining the evening. And so I shall stop there.
The rest of the weekend passed in a relaxed mismash of wanders to the marina for the Big Splash, catching up on some friends, watching X-Men 3 and numerous glasses of wine. I feel rested and comfortable and supremely happy. Long may it continue.
After a glorious day exploring the gardens, plants and stopping for a drink in Covent Garden, Mum and I dropped in on Ping Pong, as recommended by Tom and Sprink. Delicious little dumplings of steamed goodness, and a bottle of red between us, filled us and let us rest our aching feet before catching the train home to Brighton.
Friday was probably one of the best evenings I've had. If I said that the food at the Seven Dials Restaurant was delicious and the company fantastic, it wouldn't go anywhere near explaining the evening. And so I shall stop there.
The rest of the weekend passed in a relaxed mismash of wanders to the marina for the Big Splash, catching up on some friends, watching X-Men 3 and numerous glasses of wine. I feel rested and comfortable and supremely happy. Long may it continue.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
last day
Finally a few rays of sunshine this morning, on my last day at work before a six day break. After the past few weeks, having some time off is a dream. I envisage lie-in's, breakfast at Bill's, and glorious sunshine. However, I know the sun won't shine for long.
Tomorrow I'm off to Chelsea, and I plan to take my wellies. I have visions of ploughing through Glastonbury-style mud slides, of feeling continuously damp and cold and shivery. But also I'm longing to see the gardens, to wander among the flowers and take in all those glorious scents.
For the rest of the break I have much to look forward to, meals out, a picnic, a barbecue (I'm noticing a food-related theme here). I shall read books, relax and take long, hot baths. I don't want too many plans, I want to be free to jump up and drive out to the countryside if the rain stops, or stalk down to the beach and watch the waves crash. And only 8 more hours until I can escape.
Tomorrow I'm off to Chelsea, and I plan to take my wellies. I have visions of ploughing through Glastonbury-style mud slides, of feeling continuously damp and cold and shivery. But also I'm longing to see the gardens, to wander among the flowers and take in all those glorious scents.
For the rest of the break I have much to look forward to, meals out, a picnic, a barbecue (I'm noticing a food-related theme here). I shall read books, relax and take long, hot baths. I don't want too many plans, I want to be free to jump up and drive out to the countryside if the rain stops, or stalk down to the beach and watch the waves crash. And only 8 more hours until I can escape.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Lewes
Yesterday evening Mr "I told you it wasn't along here" Burt and myself made a short train journey to Lewes, to listen to readings from Vita Sackville-West and Virginia Woolf with music from a solo cello at Southover Grange. It would prove to be an interesting evening, but not for the reasons I expected. It began with the cellist, who was completely unaware of who the readings would be from and whilst fluffing his way through an introduction of "Peter Sackville-West", promptly began to make his cello sound like a strangled cat.
It has been suggested to me that the cellist was in fact a fake. The real cellist had been murdered by his identical twin brother earlier on in the day, and as his disappearance would be noticed if he didn't perform that evening, the evil twin brother decided that he would step boldly into the dead mans shoes and brave the cello.
The interval came, and still stifling giggles, we exited, looks of amazement on our faces. I don't think I've ever had to leave a performance half way through before, and it was with relief that we turned the corner and let our laughter burst forth.
To aid recovery, we dropped in on Ollie at the Brewers Arms before heading back to Brighton, safe in the knowledge that culture is not necessarily always a good thing.
It has been suggested to me that the cellist was in fact a fake. The real cellist had been murdered by his identical twin brother earlier on in the day, and as his disappearance would be noticed if he didn't perform that evening, the evil twin brother decided that he would step boldly into the dead mans shoes and brave the cello.
The interval came, and still stifling giggles, we exited, looks of amazement on our faces. I don't think I've ever had to leave a performance half way through before, and it was with relief that we turned the corner and let our laughter burst forth.
To aid recovery, we dropped in on Ollie at the Brewers Arms before heading back to Brighton, safe in the knowledge that culture is not necessarily always a good thing.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
shift up a gear
Tomorrow the scaffolding will arrive. Suddenly flat hunting seems far closer. For a while there I had been drifting, forgetting about flats, about leasehold, freehold and surveying. I had forgotten to remember to start collecting boxes, to make lists of things to keep and things to throw away. After a brief phone call last night it all rushed back to me, and there it is, real again in front of me.
The outside of the house is going to be painted a soft light green, which those small areas already coated show, will be easy on the eye but also give much needed colour. From tomorrow this painting can start at the back of the house, before moving out to the front once the scaffolders have permission from the council to use the pavement. The party walls will be worked on, my bedroom repainted and then the work is complete.
It fills me with excitement and has caught me unawares whilst I wasn't paying attention. Next week I must use one of my days off to trawl estate agents, putting my name on lists and start to anxiously wait for particulars to fall through the letterbox. I have this awful feeling that now I'm a grown up.
The outside of the house is going to be painted a soft light green, which those small areas already coated show, will be easy on the eye but also give much needed colour. From tomorrow this painting can start at the back of the house, before moving out to the front once the scaffolders have permission from the council to use the pavement. The party walls will be worked on, my bedroom repainted and then the work is complete.
It fills me with excitement and has caught me unawares whilst I wasn't paying attention. Next week I must use one of my days off to trawl estate agents, putting my name on lists and start to anxiously wait for particulars to fall through the letterbox. I have this awful feeling that now I'm a grown up.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
storm
With the clouds looming overhead, thick and heavy grey with rain, and the darkness spreading through the sky, I get a tingling in the tips of my fingers. This afternoon I am all built-up-energy, brain flashing, fidgeting and unable to sit still. I look about me, thoughts not staying on one surface for longer than a few seconds, and even my speech is faster, less coherent, jumping about.
I get the feeling of a thunder storm brewing, the closeness and this reined in energy are sure signs to my mind. I want to jump up and run out, dancing in the rain drops, getting soaked to the skin. Instead I am surrounded by exam scripts, elastic bands and chatter, listening to the heavy raindrops hit the window. All frustration, all bound up, and the tingling in my fingers doesn't stop.
I get the feeling of a thunder storm brewing, the closeness and this reined in energy are sure signs to my mind. I want to jump up and run out, dancing in the rain drops, getting soaked to the skin. Instead I am surrounded by exam scripts, elastic bands and chatter, listening to the heavy raindrops hit the window. All frustration, all bound up, and the tingling in my fingers doesn't stop.
Monday, May 15, 2006
gangsters galore
Saturday evening found me dining in Donatello's with Lyndsey, catching up on her adventures and trying to avoid the hen nights, and the associated half naked men, screaming in the bar. We guzzled wine like no tomorrow and made plans for future ventures before heading out into the warm night air and a walk to the Nightingale Theatre.
The theatre is above a pub on the corner of Surrey Street. After ordering our interval drinks we stood about, tickets in hand, waiting for the late show of "Ten Thousand Several Doors". It was a fabulous promenade play, with the audience walking from a dark, black-painted room, through back corridors and out of kitchens, from scene to scene. The actors walked past you, brushing you aside or standing menacingly in their well-cut suits, legs apart in true gangster form, whilst the double bass hummed.
We left elated, talking nineteen to the dozen, and headed down to the Speigletent for a last drink and a dance to, unexpectedly, songs from The Jungle Book. The only mar on this fabulous evening was being covered in earth by a hidden assailant by Hanover Crescent on the stroll home.
The theatre is above a pub on the corner of Surrey Street. After ordering our interval drinks we stood about, tickets in hand, waiting for the late show of "Ten Thousand Several Doors". It was a fabulous promenade play, with the audience walking from a dark, black-painted room, through back corridors and out of kitchens, from scene to scene. The actors walked past you, brushing you aside or standing menacingly in their well-cut suits, legs apart in true gangster form, whilst the double bass hummed.
We left elated, talking nineteen to the dozen, and headed down to the Speigletent for a last drink and a dance to, unexpectedly, songs from The Jungle Book. The only mar on this fabulous evening was being covered in earth by a hidden assailant by Hanover Crescent on the stroll home.
Friday, May 12, 2006
insomnia
Insomnia visits about once a year, when my body clock decides that the sleepless nights I've voluntarily put it through are not enough and I could do with one more. Last night was one such night. Despite the yawning, eye rubbing and general sleepiness, my brain, working much like a freight train, continued to roll on. For the second time in seven days I'm running on three hours sleep.
There are times during one of these nights when I can actually feel myself falling asleep. My eyes close and the world gets much darker than normal, my limbs feel heavy and won't move and a blackness descends in my head. Unfortunately this is normally followed by my helpful brain saying, in a wide awake voice, "you're falling asleep, isn't this weird?"
Fortunately last night was missing this most frustrating of insomniatic (you see, now I make up words) problems. My body didn't even try to sleep for many hours, so I fidgeted instead. Fidgeting is almost as bad.
A combination of Kaiser Chiefs, Alabama 3 and the fact that I get to drive to work in the sunshine in a sports car, have all meant that I am at present wide awake. I expect my first caffeine injection to hit home shortly, and from then on the day will pass in a confused fashion, with sense being just beyond my grasp. Oh what joys to look forward to!
There are times during one of these nights when I can actually feel myself falling asleep. My eyes close and the world gets much darker than normal, my limbs feel heavy and won't move and a blackness descends in my head. Unfortunately this is normally followed by my helpful brain saying, in a wide awake voice, "you're falling asleep, isn't this weird?"
Fortunately last night was missing this most frustrating of insomniatic (you see, now I make up words) problems. My body didn't even try to sleep for many hours, so I fidgeted instead. Fidgeting is almost as bad.
A combination of Kaiser Chiefs, Alabama 3 and the fact that I get to drive to work in the sunshine in a sports car, have all meant that I am at present wide awake. I expect my first caffeine injection to hit home shortly, and from then on the day will pass in a confused fashion, with sense being just beyond my grasp. Oh what joys to look forward to!
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
days like these
I'm feeling restless in the sunshine. Instead of being stuck in the office, warm sunlight pouring through the window, I want to be outside, picnicking in Laura Ashley. I'm not quite sure why Laura Ashley. It's not a style that normally comes to mind, but I have suspicisions that I'm finding my romance mojo, and Laura Ashley spells romance.
I'm on my own this morning, and so there isn't the slightest chance of sneaking out to bask in the sunshine. To bring the outside in, I have a large tub of strawberries at my side, which I shall devour (there's another good word) throughout the day. Strawberries are food for the Gods, along with raspberries of course. In my new garden I shall grow them in abundance and descend upon my friends with mountains of the delicious soft red fruits along with tubs on home-made strawberry ice-cream.
Even the scent of strawberries takes me far off into summer, sunburnt skin, barbecue smoke and hot nights when soft sleep takes longer to come. I love spring, with all its freshness and light, but I love the sultriness of summer, the knock of cricket balls and sand in my shoes. In two weeks I'm off to Chelsea and have a couple of days off before the Bank Holiday. To me the late May holiday is the start of summer and whilst not wanting to wish my days away, a part of me can't wait.
I'm on my own this morning, and so there isn't the slightest chance of sneaking out to bask in the sunshine. To bring the outside in, I have a large tub of strawberries at my side, which I shall devour (there's another good word) throughout the day. Strawberries are food for the Gods, along with raspberries of course. In my new garden I shall grow them in abundance and descend upon my friends with mountains of the delicious soft red fruits along with tubs on home-made strawberry ice-cream.
Even the scent of strawberries takes me far off into summer, sunburnt skin, barbecue smoke and hot nights when soft sleep takes longer to come. I love spring, with all its freshness and light, but I love the sultriness of summer, the knock of cricket balls and sand in my shoes. In two weeks I'm off to Chelsea and have a couple of days off before the Bank Holiday. To me the late May holiday is the start of summer and whilst not wanting to wish my days away, a part of me can't wait.
Monday, May 08, 2006
41 hours
A red corset, a clarinet, on a floor that bows and bounces with each step. The sun comes down over circus tents.
Red hair, full pub. Dancing till the early hours. Walking in circles, following the boys.
Sun rising over the Seven Dials. Clean, crisp morning air. Walking home to bird song before the chill sets in.
The man in Richer Sounds who tells you facts you don't need to hear. Smiling into your eyes as if imparting special knowledge.
And rest those tired eyes.
A brief walk, some more talk and Indian takeaway to fill you up.
Sleep comes quickly, all worn out, until the morning brings bright light through the blinds.
And all the time, my grin won't stop.
Red hair, full pub. Dancing till the early hours. Walking in circles, following the boys.
Sun rising over the Seven Dials. Clean, crisp morning air. Walking home to bird song before the chill sets in.
The man in Richer Sounds who tells you facts you don't need to hear. Smiling into your eyes as if imparting special knowledge.
And rest those tired eyes.
A brief walk, some more talk and Indian takeaway to fill you up.
Sleep comes quickly, all worn out, until the morning brings bright light through the blinds.
And all the time, my grin won't stop.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
hammock weather
It is definitely hammock weather. I sat outside on the grass during my lunch break, reading Ian Rankin and letting the ants climb my knees, but back in the office my head fills with thoughts of hammock lounging.
I've long been of the opinion that hammocks in the office would make a happier workforce. Obviously in weather like this we would de-camp to the sunnied outside, but during cooler days I would definitely appreciate a hammock over a swivel chair. Of course, it would make typing that bit more difficult, but I've thought about that too. I could have a secretary. She/he could type for me as I lie there, sipping tea and feeling full of self-importance.
This sort of train of thought always carries me away, and I start to think of "Butlers I would want...". I often wondered if a certain friend of mine would make a good butler, but have decided that although his scrambled egg making abilities are great, I don't think he'd offer the kind of Jeeves-like plans I would need to get me out of the Wooster-like scrapes I would undoubtedly feel I ought to get into.
You see, this hammock weather does indeed lead a girl to think but not, I fear, of work.
I've long been of the opinion that hammocks in the office would make a happier workforce. Obviously in weather like this we would de-camp to the sunnied outside, but during cooler days I would definitely appreciate a hammock over a swivel chair. Of course, it would make typing that bit more difficult, but I've thought about that too. I could have a secretary. She/he could type for me as I lie there, sipping tea and feeling full of self-importance.
This sort of train of thought always carries me away, and I start to think of "Butlers I would want...". I often wondered if a certain friend of mine would make a good butler, but have decided that although his scrambled egg making abilities are great, I don't think he'd offer the kind of Jeeves-like plans I would need to get me out of the Wooster-like scrapes I would undoubtedly feel I ought to get into.
You see, this hammock weather does indeed lead a girl to think but not, I fear, of work.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
weekend gone
Despite the somewhat gloomy weather I managed to fill my bank holiday weekend with a combination of further work on the house, visiting family and catching up with friends.
James introduced me to coddled eggs on Friday night, whilst we sat drinking wine and laughing raucously at "The 40 Year Old Virgin". It's good to have a belly-aching laugh, with tears streaming down your face every once in a while.
Mum and I have started to work on the hallway downstairs, and after a quick trip to B&Q, where the trolleys have minds of their own and compost is hard to find in small bags, we returned home with the usual array of powertools to keep us happy. I learnt more about "No More Nails" than I feel I ought to know, but am duly impressed by its sticking power.
Sunday was a day of adventures in Queen's Park. James and I stopped off at the Walmer Castle for lunch before heading out to meet others for the May Day Festival. There was a may pole, fresh faced young green-clad dancers ready with their red and white ribbons, and many garlands adorned heads. The weather, however, let us down and we all headed back as the sun went in and dark clouds loomed.
Yesterday my brother drove us up to Kent to visit family. Once we'd hit the M25 the weather started to turn to one of those lovely blossom filled, sunny spring days. We stuffed ourselves with deliciously pink roast beef, drank of pink bubbly and red wine, and walked the dogs through fields of crops, green leaves just starting to rise from the soil. I was driven home along sun dappled country lanes at great speed, listening to The Police and dreaming of what lay behind the cottage curtains. As we came close to home the evening sunlight flickered from windows like camera flashes, dazzling and promising hot summer days to come.
James introduced me to coddled eggs on Friday night, whilst we sat drinking wine and laughing raucously at "The 40 Year Old Virgin". It's good to have a belly-aching laugh, with tears streaming down your face every once in a while.
Mum and I have started to work on the hallway downstairs, and after a quick trip to B&Q, where the trolleys have minds of their own and compost is hard to find in small bags, we returned home with the usual array of powertools to keep us happy. I learnt more about "No More Nails" than I feel I ought to know, but am duly impressed by its sticking power.
Sunday was a day of adventures in Queen's Park. James and I stopped off at the Walmer Castle for lunch before heading out to meet others for the May Day Festival. There was a may pole, fresh faced young green-clad dancers ready with their red and white ribbons, and many garlands adorned heads. The weather, however, let us down and we all headed back as the sun went in and dark clouds loomed.
Yesterday my brother drove us up to Kent to visit family. Once we'd hit the M25 the weather started to turn to one of those lovely blossom filled, sunny spring days. We stuffed ourselves with deliciously pink roast beef, drank of pink bubbly and red wine, and walked the dogs through fields of crops, green leaves just starting to rise from the soil. I was driven home along sun dappled country lanes at great speed, listening to The Police and dreaming of what lay behind the cottage curtains. As we came close to home the evening sunlight flickered from windows like camera flashes, dazzling and promising hot summer days to come.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
sprung
It's going to be a lovely day, the sun is already pouring through my open office windows, the sky is a perfect blue and it's beautifully warm.
One of the things I love about working on campus is the proximity to nature. Surrounded by grass and trees, there is wildlife everywhere. As I walked into work today there were birds hopping through the hedges, heads tilted to the sun, on the lookout for breakfast. Squirrels running up trees or sitting bravely on the grass until you get too close. Outside the main door is a beautiful tree covered in fountains of white scented blossom, just beginning to fall in a carpet of softest snow. Leaves are unfurling around me in fresh new yellow-green.
It is a day that I am going to hate being stuck inside for. I long to pack up and stroll off into the countryside with a picnic and a book, not a care in the world and bask in the spring sunlight.
One of the things I love about working on campus is the proximity to nature. Surrounded by grass and trees, there is wildlife everywhere. As I walked into work today there were birds hopping through the hedges, heads tilted to the sun, on the lookout for breakfast. Squirrels running up trees or sitting bravely on the grass until you get too close. Outside the main door is a beautiful tree covered in fountains of white scented blossom, just beginning to fall in a carpet of softest snow. Leaves are unfurling around me in fresh new yellow-green.
It is a day that I am going to hate being stuck inside for. I long to pack up and stroll off into the countryside with a picnic and a book, not a care in the world and bask in the spring sunlight.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
storytelling
I spent Friday evening sat on the floor with James at the Permanent Gallery, listening to people reading out tales and poems. There is something very comforting about sitting on the floor with a friend, especially when listening to stories. It took me back to some of my first days at school, when my classmates and I would sit on the once thick pile carpet in front of the window and take it in turns to read out sections of "The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe". Elizabeth, who's surname I can't remember, had a voice so soft and calm that on hearing it all I wanted to do was curl up like a kitten and purr myself to sleep.
Stories over for the evening, we headed off down Western Road. That was the end to peace and tranquility and back to the sharp reality of Friday night. I shall go to more storytelling though, and am really looking forward to hearing James' next amusing banana related tale.
Stories over for the evening, we headed off down Western Road. That was the end to peace and tranquility and back to the sharp reality of Friday night. I shall go to more storytelling though, and am really looking forward to hearing James' next amusing banana related tale.
Friday, April 21, 2006
17 degrees
Tomorrow promises to be 17 degrees with bright sunshine, a perfect day for taking the top down and driving out into the countryside. First though, I'm going to meet up with Katharine who is on a dietary mission this week and can only consume grapefruit juice from what I can gather. I fancy a wander through the Lanes in search of a spring skirt.
I fully intend to spend the afternoon speeding off into the sunlight, sunglasses on and wind in my hair. I need to stock up on bedding plants so will be trawling nurseries and garden centres looking for plants which will do well in the current hosepipe ban.
Firle Place opens more of its gardens on Sunday as part of the National Garden Scheme, so I intend to head out there once I've leisurely soaked up the newspapers. Borde Hill Gardens and Wakehurst Place are holding bluebell weekends, so if I have time I will pop along to one and wade through the carpets of soft purple flowers.
I have that yearning for wide open spaces, long grass and lush green as far as the eye can see. Birdsong and picnics, that's what I need.
I fully intend to spend the afternoon speeding off into the sunlight, sunglasses on and wind in my hair. I need to stock up on bedding plants so will be trawling nurseries and garden centres looking for plants which will do well in the current hosepipe ban.
Firle Place opens more of its gardens on Sunday as part of the National Garden Scheme, so I intend to head out there once I've leisurely soaked up the newspapers. Borde Hill Gardens and Wakehurst Place are holding bluebell weekends, so if I have time I will pop along to one and wade through the carpets of soft purple flowers.
I have that yearning for wide open spaces, long grass and lush green as far as the eye can see. Birdsong and picnics, that's what I need.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
the thick of it
The holiday is over. No more quiet afternoons, curled up with a book. No more walks into town, or strolls around country houses, admiring the views. Back to work, the first day of term, and the thick of it.
It took me a while to get back into the swing. I sat, looking blankly at my screen, trying to remember what on earth it is that I do all day. Before I remembered, everything started up around me and it all came flooding back. Now it's as if I haven't been away.
But I have, and it was glorious. I spent days reading books, nose tucked in and surrounded by silence. I cooked roast lamb and made homemade strawberry ice cream. I drove up to Sevenoaks, discussing the soul with James, and walked through Knole, seeped in history. I walked down to the sea, and stared off into the evening, stopped off at the Sanctuary Cafe for a glass of organic wine, and got blisters on the way home. I ate breakfast at Bill's and found that I'd wolfed it down in seconds, eyes shining with glee.
Being back isn't too bad, only two more days to go and then I shall make a start on the patio. I need to weed the flower bed, plant up the pots and hanging basket and clean the decking. I'm looking forward to that lovely fresh smell of just dug earth, to planting up and sitting back, achey but content. But I must stop, it's no good to be wishing my life away, a part of me will admit that it's good to be at work again.
It took me a while to get back into the swing. I sat, looking blankly at my screen, trying to remember what on earth it is that I do all day. Before I remembered, everything started up around me and it all came flooding back. Now it's as if I haven't been away.
But I have, and it was glorious. I spent days reading books, nose tucked in and surrounded by silence. I cooked roast lamb and made homemade strawberry ice cream. I drove up to Sevenoaks, discussing the soul with James, and walked through Knole, seeped in history. I walked down to the sea, and stared off into the evening, stopped off at the Sanctuary Cafe for a glass of organic wine, and got blisters on the way home. I ate breakfast at Bill's and found that I'd wolfed it down in seconds, eyes shining with glee.
Being back isn't too bad, only two more days to go and then I shall make a start on the patio. I need to weed the flower bed, plant up the pots and hanging basket and clean the decking. I'm looking forward to that lovely fresh smell of just dug earth, to planting up and sitting back, achey but content. But I must stop, it's no good to be wishing my life away, a part of me will admit that it's good to be at work again.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
holidays
At last a whole six days off, an hour left and then I can walk out of the office and drive home with the welcoming thought that I have no more early mornings, no more emails and no more meetings until next Wednesday. What joy!
Tomorrow I plan to go to breakfast at Bill's before dropping into the library to fill up on books to last me the weekend. I've also got my new king size goose feather duvet to collect, a heart warming thought, and once I have I shall go home and snuggle in it for a while.
I have no plans for Friday, and the thought of all that freedom makes the tips of my fingers tingle with anticipation. Depending on the weather, I may take the top down and drive off into the countryside with a picnic to enjoy the spring flowers. I may go up to London and visit the National Gallery and the Tate Britain, or I may curl up with my new duvet and devour a book.
On Saturday James and I are off to Knole. I'm looking forward to strolling through the deer park and putting names to places having read so much about the house recently.
Sunday is more work on the house, one more door to hang and other bits to do. I will also cook roast lamb and spend the evening supping on delicious soft pink flesh and roast potatoes.
As for Monday and Tuesday, that's just too far off. I don't want to make plans, I want to relax and enjoy the first break I've had since Christmas and what will probably be the last free time I shall have before I move. I want to wallow in the peace and quiet and immerse myself in books, to wander the Lanes in the day light hours and walk along the beach, staring out at the waves from the city I love. How I love holidays....
Tomorrow I plan to go to breakfast at Bill's before dropping into the library to fill up on books to last me the weekend. I've also got my new king size goose feather duvet to collect, a heart warming thought, and once I have I shall go home and snuggle in it for a while.
I have no plans for Friday, and the thought of all that freedom makes the tips of my fingers tingle with anticipation. Depending on the weather, I may take the top down and drive off into the countryside with a picnic to enjoy the spring flowers. I may go up to London and visit the National Gallery and the Tate Britain, or I may curl up with my new duvet and devour a book.
On Saturday James and I are off to Knole. I'm looking forward to strolling through the deer park and putting names to places having read so much about the house recently.
Sunday is more work on the house, one more door to hang and other bits to do. I will also cook roast lamb and spend the evening supping on delicious soft pink flesh and roast potatoes.
As for Monday and Tuesday, that's just too far off. I don't want to make plans, I want to relax and enjoy the first break I've had since Christmas and what will probably be the last free time I shall have before I move. I want to wallow in the peace and quiet and immerse myself in books, to wander the Lanes in the day light hours and walk along the beach, staring out at the waves from the city I love. How I love holidays....
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
doors shot
I ache, well my shoulders and arms ache. It's that healthy "I've been doing lots of useful things" ache that you get when you've spent two days trying to hold doors straight whilst chiseling, drilling, sawing and the like goes on around you. The house filled with sawdust and wood chips, despite the fact that much of the sawing took place in the garden, waking the neighbours who fancied sleeping later than 11am and covering the decking with snow-like drifts of sawdust.
In two days we hung three doors, it's not bad going considering how much work goes into it. I drank far too much coffee, vacuumed more times that I can remember and lugged doors up and down the stairs like a pro.
On Sunday evening, the third door hung, I hid away for a quiet beer in the spare room. It has changed so much in the last few weeks that I almost felt that I didn't know it at all. Soon the whole house will feel like that, my home will no longer be my home and before I get used to that I'll be gone, settling in somewhere new. It's exciting, and now I feel more prepared, after all at least I now know how to hang doors.
In two days we hung three doors, it's not bad going considering how much work goes into it. I drank far too much coffee, vacuumed more times that I can remember and lugged doors up and down the stairs like a pro.
On Sunday evening, the third door hung, I hid away for a quiet beer in the spare room. It has changed so much in the last few weeks that I almost felt that I didn't know it at all. Soon the whole house will feel like that, my home will no longer be my home and before I get used to that I'll be gone, settling in somewhere new. It's exciting, and now I feel more prepared, after all at least I now know how to hang doors.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
the best days of your life?
On my way to work yesterday, the radio informed me that my old school was closing. It came as a surprise, the last I'd heard the place was specialising in the Performing Arts and holding regular performances at the Gardner Arts Centre and as part of the Brighton Festival Fringe.
I began to think back to my school days, something I try to avoid normally as the last few years were not pleasant. This is mostly due to my raging hormones and desire to rebel in what, looking back, was undoubtedly more damaging to myself than anyone else. Those last few years burnt through all the memories, but they were still there, just slightly crispy around the edges.
There was the day my brother climbed up into the digger on the back playing field, managed to turn it on and started driving off towards the line of trees, with what I can only imagine was a manic grin on his face. At the time diggers, tractors and other large vehicles were his favourite things, since then his driving hasn't changed much!
My chums and I used to hang about twiddling our thumbs on long summer afternoons, until we invented The Game. It was a rather elaborate game of hide and seek, the details of which I can no longer remember, and it filled those summer afternoons with chases around the playing fields, huddled groups behind class rooms, and half-frightened whispers as we tried to work out who was where and if they were right behind us.
We used to hang out in the library, staring out of the large windows across the playing field and onto the downs, whilst writing stories. Some of these became novels, with pages and pages filled in neat handwriting and passed around, like a soap opera, each waiting for the next installment.
There was my first kiss, I was twelve and nervous and hidden in the prefects garden with Stuart Honeyball. And suddenly it was all over and he was off home for the holidays, whilst I was left standing there behind the conifers, all emotions.
I played a river-banker in the Wind in the Willows, make up pasted on with brush after brush, and was so jealous of those who were picked to be weasels as they got to dress in punk gear, with back-combed hair and more eyeliner than Robert Smith.
And suddenly the phrase "Those were the days..." pops into my head and for a while I wonder if they were the best days of my life, or simply a precursor for all those other fabulous days I've had since and will no doubt have more of in the future.
I began to think back to my school days, something I try to avoid normally as the last few years were not pleasant. This is mostly due to my raging hormones and desire to rebel in what, looking back, was undoubtedly more damaging to myself than anyone else. Those last few years burnt through all the memories, but they were still there, just slightly crispy around the edges.
There was the day my brother climbed up into the digger on the back playing field, managed to turn it on and started driving off towards the line of trees, with what I can only imagine was a manic grin on his face. At the time diggers, tractors and other large vehicles were his favourite things, since then his driving hasn't changed much!
My chums and I used to hang about twiddling our thumbs on long summer afternoons, until we invented The Game. It was a rather elaborate game of hide and seek, the details of which I can no longer remember, and it filled those summer afternoons with chases around the playing fields, huddled groups behind class rooms, and half-frightened whispers as we tried to work out who was where and if they were right behind us.
We used to hang out in the library, staring out of the large windows across the playing field and onto the downs, whilst writing stories. Some of these became novels, with pages and pages filled in neat handwriting and passed around, like a soap opera, each waiting for the next installment.
There was my first kiss, I was twelve and nervous and hidden in the prefects garden with Stuart Honeyball. And suddenly it was all over and he was off home for the holidays, whilst I was left standing there behind the conifers, all emotions.
I played a river-banker in the Wind in the Willows, make up pasted on with brush after brush, and was so jealous of those who were picked to be weasels as they got to dress in punk gear, with back-combed hair and more eyeliner than Robert Smith.
And suddenly the phrase "Those were the days..." pops into my head and for a while I wonder if they were the best days of my life, or simply a precursor for all those other fabulous days I've had since and will no doubt have more of in the future.
Monday, April 03, 2006
lost days
Birthday weekends are always messy, and this weekend was no exception. I left work early to go present shopping and have my hair cut, popping into the library on the way and stocking up with this weeks books. I found the presents I was looking for quickly, and so stopped for a cup of coffee before strolling to see my fabulous hairdresser, Peter. Trips to the hairdresser are always a treat, a time I get to spoil myself, relax and drift away. Friday was no exception and I left feeling revitalised and ready for anything.
Lyndsey and I met up for a quick drink at the Park Crescent, which turned into quite a few drinks and a short and giggly journey back to Lyndsey's flat where we gorged on pizza and pestered Pete until he eventually fell asleep, snoring his way through Jaws 3 (which I have to say, is the best way to watch it).
Saturday was a day of pain, drilling, sawing, pain, and a bit more pain. Whilst family worked around me, I sat on the sofa feeling sorry for myself and groaning under the agonies of the world. An ex-boyfriend once told me that he really enjoyed hangovers, something I not only could not comprehend but could also never foresee myself agreeing with.
Sunday morning broke with sunshine and blue sky, and I found myself smiling broadly after twelve hours sleep. I went to The George for lunch to celebrate Lyndsey's birthday with the gang. I sipped spicy carrot and parsnip soup and slowly drank a pint, what a glorious way to spend an afternoon.
But now it is Monday again and it doesn't feel as if the weekend ever existed. I long for the holiday break next week, when I will finally start to make a dig into clearing out my house. When I shall drive up to Knole with James, the top down on the car and my hair blowing every which way. Six whole days of freedom, it can't come soon enough.
Lyndsey and I met up for a quick drink at the Park Crescent, which turned into quite a few drinks and a short and giggly journey back to Lyndsey's flat where we gorged on pizza and pestered Pete until he eventually fell asleep, snoring his way through Jaws 3 (which I have to say, is the best way to watch it).
Saturday was a day of pain, drilling, sawing, pain, and a bit more pain. Whilst family worked around me, I sat on the sofa feeling sorry for myself and groaning under the agonies of the world. An ex-boyfriend once told me that he really enjoyed hangovers, something I not only could not comprehend but could also never foresee myself agreeing with.
Sunday morning broke with sunshine and blue sky, and I found myself smiling broadly after twelve hours sleep. I went to The George for lunch to celebrate Lyndsey's birthday with the gang. I sipped spicy carrot and parsnip soup and slowly drank a pint, what a glorious way to spend an afternoon.
But now it is Monday again and it doesn't feel as if the weekend ever existed. I long for the holiday break next week, when I will finally start to make a dig into clearing out my house. When I shall drive up to Knole with James, the top down on the car and my hair blowing every which way. Six whole days of freedom, it can't come soon enough.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
is romance dead?
I suspect it serves me right for reading "Portrait of a Marriage" before bed. There I was, curled up under my duvet with my still-damp hair tied back, bears keeping my toes warm, gently chewing my lower lip and firmly focused for hours on the dreadfully romantic autobiography of Vita Sackville-West. It is a tale of love, for she had much of it to give and many trials and tribulations to endure.
All rather charming, it filled me with that gushing romanticism of my teenage years, fingers crossed that the star-crossed lovers would work it all out in the end. Of course when there are more than two star-crossed lovers; husbands, wives, lesbian and gay lovers aplenty, it does make it slightly more complicated. As the hours ticked by and pages turned, I found myself greatly reassured that, in comparison, my love-life has always been considerably less complicated.
When my eyelids finally began to close, I turned off the light and succumbed to intrusively romantic dreams of astronauts (I'm still not sure where that came from), and walking along dark grey London streets for hours. In the rain, naturally.
It was quite a relief to wake up and find the sun shining, if a little dimly, the bears mewling for food and the world once more as cold, hard and unromantic as it should be on a Wednesday. Perhaps romance is best on Tuesdays? Or am I just loosing the old-romantic in me?
All rather charming, it filled me with that gushing romanticism of my teenage years, fingers crossed that the star-crossed lovers would work it all out in the end. Of course when there are more than two star-crossed lovers; husbands, wives, lesbian and gay lovers aplenty, it does make it slightly more complicated. As the hours ticked by and pages turned, I found myself greatly reassured that, in comparison, my love-life has always been considerably less complicated.
When my eyelids finally began to close, I turned off the light and succumbed to intrusively romantic dreams of astronauts (I'm still not sure where that came from), and walking along dark grey London streets for hours. In the rain, naturally.
It was quite a relief to wake up and find the sun shining, if a little dimly, the bears mewling for food and the world once more as cold, hard and unromantic as it should be on a Wednesday. Perhaps romance is best on Tuesdays? Or am I just loosing the old-romantic in me?
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
new chapters
It has been a long time since my last post. Time has been rushing by in whirl leaving me feeling worn out and stretched thin, eager for the six day break over Easter when I can sleep in, read and venture forth into the world on refreshed toes.
The house is coming along with spare room, kitchen, and entrance hall now finished. New internal doors need to be hung, light fittings need to be installed and some further refurbishment in the bathroom, before the roofer comes to make a couple of days worth of repairs. After that the outside needs to be repainted and then it is finished, ready to be put on the market. It is an exciting time, a culmination of eight months worth of discussion and planning. Although I have been there over seven years, I don't feel any sadness to be leaving. It is time to move on, to start the next adventure. I have already redesigned a multitude of different new homes in my head, imagining the rooms progressing, changing like chameleons, depending on my mood.
I long for a garden, green grass under foot and summer evenings spent picking vegetables in the garden and grilling trout on a barbeque. I plan plantings, shifting through colours and heights in my head, arranging beds and features, light and shade.
I aim to move over the summer, hoping that the light and heat help to keep my spirits up; buoyant like gulls on a wave. Whilst all have moved around me, it will be strange to do so myself. To pack up the memories of the last seven years into boxes, only gone for a short time before opening them somewhere new, to stretch their legs and tumble out, new memories made. I am impatient and mournful all at once, but joyous and excited for soon I shall start a new chapter.
The house is coming along with spare room, kitchen, and entrance hall now finished. New internal doors need to be hung, light fittings need to be installed and some further refurbishment in the bathroom, before the roofer comes to make a couple of days worth of repairs. After that the outside needs to be repainted and then it is finished, ready to be put on the market. It is an exciting time, a culmination of eight months worth of discussion and planning. Although I have been there over seven years, I don't feel any sadness to be leaving. It is time to move on, to start the next adventure. I have already redesigned a multitude of different new homes in my head, imagining the rooms progressing, changing like chameleons, depending on my mood.
I long for a garden, green grass under foot and summer evenings spent picking vegetables in the garden and grilling trout on a barbeque. I plan plantings, shifting through colours and heights in my head, arranging beds and features, light and shade.
I aim to move over the summer, hoping that the light and heat help to keep my spirits up; buoyant like gulls on a wave. Whilst all have moved around me, it will be strange to do so myself. To pack up the memories of the last seven years into boxes, only gone for a short time before opening them somewhere new, to stretch their legs and tumble out, new memories made. I am impatient and mournful all at once, but joyous and excited for soon I shall start a new chapter.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
twitchy
I find myself in a quandary, twitching between the known and the unknown. This morning I should phone my IFA, make an appointment and discuss the in's and out's of mortgages. Instead, I find myself typing the number into my phone, thinking long and hard about the implications of said mortgage, and then putting the phone back on the desk and doing something else for fifteen minutes.
After fifteen minutes I find my courage once more, pick up the phone and repeat the above. This has now happened three times.
I can't pinpoint what exactly I'm finding so difficult here. It's a phone call, pure and simple. It isn't signing off on debt for the rest of my life, it isn't surveyors or lawyers, leasehold or freehold. Just one phone call that I am unable to make.
When I woke up this morning, fresh and aware at six thirty, I didn't feel any less brave than I normally do. I didn't shudder and wonder if I would spend the day huddled in a corner, frightened of my shadow. In fact, I felt remarkably chipper, ready to face the day. What has happened since then? Why this need for someone to "hold my hand"? Where has the love of adventure gone?
Could it be true that inside I am a coward? Heavens forbid!
There, that did it! Deed done, and ironically he wasn't there. Now I feel just a little foolish but I suspect that all adventurers need a kick sometimes.
After fifteen minutes I find my courage once more, pick up the phone and repeat the above. This has now happened three times.
I can't pinpoint what exactly I'm finding so difficult here. It's a phone call, pure and simple. It isn't signing off on debt for the rest of my life, it isn't surveyors or lawyers, leasehold or freehold. Just one phone call that I am unable to make.
When I woke up this morning, fresh and aware at six thirty, I didn't feel any less brave than I normally do. I didn't shudder and wonder if I would spend the day huddled in a corner, frightened of my shadow. In fact, I felt remarkably chipper, ready to face the day. What has happened since then? Why this need for someone to "hold my hand"? Where has the love of adventure gone?
Could it be true that inside I am a coward? Heavens forbid!
There, that did it! Deed done, and ironically he wasn't there. Now I feel just a little foolish but I suspect that all adventurers need a kick sometimes.
Monday, March 13, 2006
interesting times
My Dad mentioned that famous Chinese curse "May you live in interesting times", whilst we ate dinner at Carluccio's last night. The past few days have certainly been interesting on many different levels, from the trials and tribulations of my dear friends home-buying antics, and on to today, where work has been a hotbed of gossip after the press releases over the weekend.
I'm not sure that "interesting" is necessarily a curse, but it certainly gives one to think on the stability of those things we take for granted. I like "interesting" in terms of the excitement that changes bring, that little bit of thrilling uncertainty that isn't enough to unsettle. I like the glimpses into the future that I can now see, little clues of what may lay ahead, of what possibilities there may be. It is an adventure, sitting here on the edge of new things, toes gently dipping into the abyss, and I do like an adventure every once in a while.
I'm not sure that "interesting" is necessarily a curse, but it certainly gives one to think on the stability of those things we take for granted. I like "interesting" in terms of the excitement that changes bring, that little bit of thrilling uncertainty that isn't enough to unsettle. I like the glimpses into the future that I can now see, little clues of what may lay ahead, of what possibilities there may be. It is an adventure, sitting here on the edge of new things, toes gently dipping into the abyss, and I do like an adventure every once in a while.
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
on writing letters
I have recently taken up the habit of writing letters, proper letters with a fountain pen and an inky finger. It is a past-time I did much of in my childhood and teens but not so much since hitting my twenties. For the last three days I have been patiently waiting for my special paper to arrive, directly from Bond Street. This afternoon, after a not too dull two-hour meeting, I got back to my desk to find the package sitting there, waiting for me.
As with all new pleasures, I did try to open it slowly but you can only open envelopes at reasonable speeds, it isn't like wrapping paper. Inside there are two beautiful blue boxes, and in those beautiful blue boxes are the soft, smooth, off-white paper and envelopes.
Old fashioned pleasures, in days when we live on technology as if it is part of our five-a-day, are a refreshing change. That feel of smooth writing paper, of the pen nip floating gently over the top in loops and swirls, of grammar and punctuation, full sentences and full words, it can't be beat. This evening I shall sit with a glass of wine, and write letters. I shall be calm, and peaceful and bare a little bit of my soul once more.
As with all new pleasures, I did try to open it slowly but you can only open envelopes at reasonable speeds, it isn't like wrapping paper. Inside there are two beautiful blue boxes, and in those beautiful blue boxes are the soft, smooth, off-white paper and envelopes.
Old fashioned pleasures, in days when we live on technology as if it is part of our five-a-day, are a refreshing change. That feel of smooth writing paper, of the pen nip floating gently over the top in loops and swirls, of grammar and punctuation, full sentences and full words, it can't be beat. This evening I shall sit with a glass of wine, and write letters. I shall be calm, and peaceful and bare a little bit of my soul once more.
Monday, March 06, 2006
beauty
It has been a busy and sometimes worrying two weeks, with time passing far too quickly. I have found myself skipping through whole days without noticing and wondering what I did in them. On Saturday morning I decided I had had enough, and picking up my bag of library books, walked out of the door to breakfast at Bill's.
As I've said before, the best way to start the day is with breakfast at Bill's. I sat at a clean wooden table, ordered my coffee, scrambled eggs and bacon, and sat people watching for what, for once, felt like a long time. The food, as always, was delicious, and set a smile on my face that would last all day.
Once repleat, I wandered off to the library, to take back old books and take out new ones. I am researching Vita Sackville-West for the personal project on my design course. I started with a couple of people I wanted to look into, but having read Vita's letters to Virginia Woolf, I found myself hooked. There is something about her personality that fascinates me, something romantic that pulls on the part of me that loves old fashioned country gardens, foxgloves and neat green lawns.
From lunchtime my house became a hive of activity, with black plastic sacks filled with rubbish, and old junk. Furniture was moved, trips to the tip were made, crowbars were put to use and cups of restorative coffee were drunk. It is odd to see the house developing, to come back from work and see the hallway repainted, new curtains, new styles and yet to have it all happen whilst I'm not there. Going home becomes quite an adventure - what will have changed today?
I dined with mum at The George in Alfriston, of steak and chips and a well-rounded merlot. We talked into the early hours of politics and liberty, with a fervour that was refreshing. No headache kept me tied to the bed, and on the drive home the sun shone brightly into the car, flooding my heart with light and forcing me to look on the countryside with new eyes. It would seem that no matter how difficult some weeks can be, there is always beauty just outside. Sometimes I need to remember that.
As I've said before, the best way to start the day is with breakfast at Bill's. I sat at a clean wooden table, ordered my coffee, scrambled eggs and bacon, and sat people watching for what, for once, felt like a long time. The food, as always, was delicious, and set a smile on my face that would last all day.
Once repleat, I wandered off to the library, to take back old books and take out new ones. I am researching Vita Sackville-West for the personal project on my design course. I started with a couple of people I wanted to look into, but having read Vita's letters to Virginia Woolf, I found myself hooked. There is something about her personality that fascinates me, something romantic that pulls on the part of me that loves old fashioned country gardens, foxgloves and neat green lawns.
From lunchtime my house became a hive of activity, with black plastic sacks filled with rubbish, and old junk. Furniture was moved, trips to the tip were made, crowbars were put to use and cups of restorative coffee were drunk. It is odd to see the house developing, to come back from work and see the hallway repainted, new curtains, new styles and yet to have it all happen whilst I'm not there. Going home becomes quite an adventure - what will have changed today?
I dined with mum at The George in Alfriston, of steak and chips and a well-rounded merlot. We talked into the early hours of politics and liberty, with a fervour that was refreshing. No headache kept me tied to the bed, and on the drive home the sun shone brightly into the car, flooding my heart with light and forcing me to look on the countryside with new eyes. It would seem that no matter how difficult some weeks can be, there is always beauty just outside. Sometimes I need to remember that.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
jaunts
This morning a lovely thing happened to me. I walked down the stairs, and there, just inside the door, was a letter from a very dear friend of mine. In this letter was a remark about how lovely going on jaunts into the countryside with me is. I would have to agree, jaunts into the countryside are great and this year I am planning plenty.
Unfortunately the current state of gloom doesn't really inspire me to do more than shut my front door, close the curtains and sit down with the bears and a cup of tea to watch the raindrops fall in comfort. I have decided that February is a ghastly month and the end of it can't come soon enough.
It isn't helped by the vast quantities of money I have to spend on car insurance, road tax and MOT which all fall within the next two weeks. Of course, I love my car and I won't do without it (see country jaunts above, very important for such things), but it costs a lot of money, especially when it's all at once. My bank balance is soon to look terribly sad and I shall worry over it, I expect, for some time to come. I am a worrier by nature and I don't feel that things are right in the world unless I'm worrying about something.
Still, I shall look on the bright side. Spring will soon be here and much of it I intend to spend knee deep in flower beds, strolling along through gardens, over the downs and picnicing on blankets. Though all on the cheap of course!
Unfortunately the current state of gloom doesn't really inspire me to do more than shut my front door, close the curtains and sit down with the bears and a cup of tea to watch the raindrops fall in comfort. I have decided that February is a ghastly month and the end of it can't come soon enough.
It isn't helped by the vast quantities of money I have to spend on car insurance, road tax and MOT which all fall within the next two weeks. Of course, I love my car and I won't do without it (see country jaunts above, very important for such things), but it costs a lot of money, especially when it's all at once. My bank balance is soon to look terribly sad and I shall worry over it, I expect, for some time to come. I am a worrier by nature and I don't feel that things are right in the world unless I'm worrying about something.
Still, I shall look on the bright side. Spring will soon be here and much of it I intend to spend knee deep in flower beds, strolling along through gardens, over the downs and picnicing on blankets. Though all on the cheap of course!
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
afternoon tea
It's a little odd that having spent years protesting that I hate tea, that it's a horrible drink and tastes funny, that only coffee will do; I have been drinking a remarkable amount of tea in the last two weeks.
It all started on the day I got my hair cut (still loving it, I have to say). All dull with hangover, for some reason tea was the first thing that popped into my head when the girl, who was to wash my hair, asked me what I'd like to drink. I drank it, and looked about, and realised that the bright white lights didn't seem so bright, and I perked up. So much so that I had another cup shortly afterwards.
Since then I haven't looked back. Lyndsey is especially happy about this, as it means we can now drink tea together. Such a change from wine or coffee which is indeed our staple diet (with the occassional cocktail when the desire strikes us). In fact, I'm drinking a lovely cup of Twinings as I type. Delicious.
I now have lovely visions of summer afternoons spent in a hammock, or lounging on grass, picking at home made scones with whipped cream and strawberry jam, sipping from freshly made tea. Proper tea at that, in a tea pot, loose and dancing.
I really am becoming rather fond of the stuff. On the last couple of evenings, at the end of last week, before dashing off to theatre, or falling asleep at Katharine's dinner party (at the table, no less), it was tea that I grabbed in haste. I took a few precious moments to sup it, before dashing off, hither and tither, tripping in heels or pouting with lippy. I admit, I am a convert. I take all those remarks I made, about horrible taste, back. Let me make scones, I say, and all will be well in the world. And more tea!
It all started on the day I got my hair cut (still loving it, I have to say). All dull with hangover, for some reason tea was the first thing that popped into my head when the girl, who was to wash my hair, asked me what I'd like to drink. I drank it, and looked about, and realised that the bright white lights didn't seem so bright, and I perked up. So much so that I had another cup shortly afterwards.
Since then I haven't looked back. Lyndsey is especially happy about this, as it means we can now drink tea together. Such a change from wine or coffee which is indeed our staple diet (with the occassional cocktail when the desire strikes us). In fact, I'm drinking a lovely cup of Twinings as I type. Delicious.
I now have lovely visions of summer afternoons spent in a hammock, or lounging on grass, picking at home made scones with whipped cream and strawberry jam, sipping from freshly made tea. Proper tea at that, in a tea pot, loose and dancing.
I really am becoming rather fond of the stuff. On the last couple of evenings, at the end of last week, before dashing off to theatre, or falling asleep at Katharine's dinner party (at the table, no less), it was tea that I grabbed in haste. I took a few precious moments to sup it, before dashing off, hither and tither, tripping in heels or pouting with lippy. I admit, I am a convert. I take all those remarks I made, about horrible taste, back. Let me make scones, I say, and all will be well in the world. And more tea!
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
green fields
There are days when my brain, constantly interrupted by the phone and people bursting into the office with pleas for help, beings to feel as if it is going to explode. Hundreds of different thoughts fly about, as if electrically charged, bumping into each other and starting little fires. I find myself talking faster, as if this will somehow help me keep up with my thoughts, words rushing out and all into one.
And suddenly it all stops, and I stare out the window at the blue sky and the green fields, and I have this extraordinary desire to run. Run and run and run, through the fields and towards the end of the sky.
I hate running. This tells me that I need to slow down, take a break, have a coffee or perhaps even tea, and banish these horrible thoughts of running forever. Bring back the stroll, I say.
And suddenly it all stops, and I stare out the window at the blue sky and the green fields, and I have this extraordinary desire to run. Run and run and run, through the fields and towards the end of the sky.
I hate running. This tells me that I need to slow down, take a break, have a coffee or perhaps even tea, and banish these horrible thoughts of running forever. Bring back the stroll, I say.
Monday, February 06, 2006
oh brother of mine
After spending Friday night with James, watching Casablanca and drinking wine, I had a glorious Saturday to enjoy. It started with a mad hunt for painkillers and a glass of water, which Saturday mornings are wont to do, and proceeded with scrambled eggs on toast and a stroll into town to get my hair cut. I was very brave, I sat in the chair, gazing into the mirror and sipping a large cup of tea whilst inches of my hair were snipped off. I'm very pleased with the somewhat shorter but cleaner cut. In fact I'd go so far as to say that I think my bob suits me well.
Once dried and styled, I skipped out into the street and met James for another cup of tea and a wander around town. The poor fellow was feeling a little tired and out of sorts, probably due to the late night the night before, and so I let him wander home whilst I popped off to join the Library. It seemed a very strangly ordered place, with none of the books I wanted being listed in alphabetical order. I didn't mind too much, and had a good sort through the shelves, eventually taking three books by Vita Sackville-West which I need to read and inwardly digest for my Garden Design course.
I trotted off home, had a bowl of soup and waited for my brother to arrive, before tripping off to town again to buy a present for Mum's birthday and to pick up little brothers new Gresham Blake suit. I am a big fan of pin-stripe, and a great fan of Gresham Blake. I have to try very hard not to run up huge bills and walk out in style.
After yet another trip home and back into town, we went out for Thai at Mai Pei Ped, discussed families, the mob, jobs, cars, and other interesting things, before a perfect trip to Bar Valentino for more delicious cocktails and silliness.
All in all, a fabulous time with that brother of mine.
Once dried and styled, I skipped out into the street and met James for another cup of tea and a wander around town. The poor fellow was feeling a little tired and out of sorts, probably due to the late night the night before, and so I let him wander home whilst I popped off to join the Library. It seemed a very strangly ordered place, with none of the books I wanted being listed in alphabetical order. I didn't mind too much, and had a good sort through the shelves, eventually taking three books by Vita Sackville-West which I need to read and inwardly digest for my Garden Design course.
I trotted off home, had a bowl of soup and waited for my brother to arrive, before tripping off to town again to buy a present for Mum's birthday and to pick up little brothers new Gresham Blake suit. I am a big fan of pin-stripe, and a great fan of Gresham Blake. I have to try very hard not to run up huge bills and walk out in style.
After yet another trip home and back into town, we went out for Thai at Mai Pei Ped, discussed families, the mob, jobs, cars, and other interesting things, before a perfect trip to Bar Valentino for more delicious cocktails and silliness.
All in all, a fabulous time with that brother of mine.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
decisions, decisions
I've decided, I want a iBook. I've been debating on laptops for a good six months now and I've dithered from PC to Mac over and over again, with people advising me on both sides. But I've finally decided. iBook it is.
I think.
Or perhaps I'm still not sure.
Decisions, decisions...
I think.
Or perhaps I'm still not sure.
Decisions, decisions...
Thursday, January 26, 2006
wanted: one adventure
This afternoon I quite fancy an adventure. It has been a while since anything one could call adventurous has happened to me, now I have a distinct longing. Unfortunately I have a niggling feeling that adventures are not events that one can just pop out and purchase; "Shop-keep, find me an adventure!" They are the sort of events that just happen, when you least expect it, whilst you're hoovering or mowing the lawn or something equally domestic and dull.
The most adventurous thing that happened to me today is my left shoe falling off. I have a suspicion that it is slightly too big, so I've folded my sock over and over my heel which seems to have done the trick. You see, that isn't adventurous at all. In fact, it's not even worth mentioning, and I now feel slightly silly for having done so.
I don't really mind what sort of adventure I have, it could be swashbuckling, romantic, daring, the list could go on and on. What concerns me most is that an afternoon without meetings, a free afternoon with just my lonesome in-tray, should pass without even the slightest wiff of adventure. What a shameful waste.
The most adventurous thing that happened to me today is my left shoe falling off. I have a suspicion that it is slightly too big, so I've folded my sock over and over my heel which seems to have done the trick. You see, that isn't adventurous at all. In fact, it's not even worth mentioning, and I now feel slightly silly for having done so.
I don't really mind what sort of adventure I have, it could be swashbuckling, romantic, daring, the list could go on and on. What concerns me most is that an afternoon without meetings, a free afternoon with just my lonesome in-tray, should pass without even the slightest wiff of adventure. What a shameful waste.
Friday, January 20, 2006
sunshine, glorious sunshine
Today is turning out to be a splendid day and I put it down to one simple thing: sunshine. Without it, we all mope about, tired and depressed but not today. As I stomped around Stanmer Park at lunch time, I noticed the number of fellow stompers had grown dramatically. There seemed to be hundreds of us, lapping up the rays as our feet walked through the mud.
This afternoon I shall go home, cheery and chilled, to crack open the gin and welcome in the weekend. It's good to be awake again, basking in the glow.
This afternoon I shall go home, cheery and chilled, to crack open the gin and welcome in the weekend. It's good to be awake again, basking in the glow.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
soft boiled
I'm having one of those weeks when my brain feels like a soft boiled egg. Every morning I wake up and feel as if I haven't slept at all. My usual two cups of coffee slip down but don't even shake the sleepiness and I find I've mislaid all signs of intelligence, having probably left them by the sink. I plod through the day, unsure if whether anything I do is correct, but crossing my fingers and smiling. By the time I get home I'm bedraggled and confused, I mutter to the cats and cross my fingers that the next morning I'll be myself once more.
I have decided that the cure for this soft boiled brain is gin and tonic and sunshine. There's nothing like lying back in the sun against soft green grass, with an iced gin and tonic. I'd like to be listening to Madeline Peyroux, feet tapping softly and sunglasses shielding the bright light. In the distance I would be able to smell trout cooking on the barbeque, with the promise of freshly picked strawberries and cream. Bliss. Oh for spring, oh for summer, oh for gin!
I have decided that the cure for this soft boiled brain is gin and tonic and sunshine. There's nothing like lying back in the sun against soft green grass, with an iced gin and tonic. I'd like to be listening to Madeline Peyroux, feet tapping softly and sunglasses shielding the bright light. In the distance I would be able to smell trout cooking on the barbeque, with the promise of freshly picked strawberries and cream. Bliss. Oh for spring, oh for summer, oh for gin!
Sunday, January 15, 2006
bill's best beginning
Yesterday morning I got up at eight and strolled into town for breakfast at Bill's. It didn't take me long to decide that breakfast at Bill's is the best beginning to any day. I ate gorgeous scrambled eggs with smoked salmon on delicious home made bread and drank a delectable, creamy latte. I wrote notes for myself in my moleskine, and on looking up found myself surrounded by kindred spirits, moleskines out, heads down, coffees steaming.
After breakfast I took a turn around the town, before driving out to Newick for my Grandfather's birthday party. It was a lovely afternoon of food and conversation. I took special delight in the story of my meeting with Simon Button, a friend of my uncle James. At a very tender age, and literally knee high, I was introduced to Simon who stood at over six foot two in his stockinged feet. My eyes raised from floor level, my head tilting further and further back until I eventually fell over backwards. I'm not sure my eyes ever reached his face.
I drove home in the dark, before curling up on the sofa with a bottle of red wine to finish the day in comfort. A perfect end to a perfect day.
After breakfast I took a turn around the town, before driving out to Newick for my Grandfather's birthday party. It was a lovely afternoon of food and conversation. I took special delight in the story of my meeting with Simon Button, a friend of my uncle James. At a very tender age, and literally knee high, I was introduced to Simon who stood at over six foot two in his stockinged feet. My eyes raised from floor level, my head tilting further and further back until I eventually fell over backwards. I'm not sure my eyes ever reached his face.
I drove home in the dark, before curling up on the sofa with a bottle of red wine to finish the day in comfort. A perfect end to a perfect day.
Friday, January 13, 2006
stanmer stroll
At lunchtime, Sue and I took a walk in Stanmer Park. We set off across the football pitches, wellieboots picking up the soft mud, and climbed the hill to the cap of trees. It's a long climb, much like walking up Coldean Lane, which runs along the same hill but further down. There were the usual lunchtime dog walkers, today it was spaniels, long soft ears flapping as they jogged along, sniffing tree trunks and picking up sticks to gnaw.
We walked under the bare trees, along the muddy paths and down the hill again behind the green houses and along beside the badgers, before heading back to work. It was a wonderfully refreshing walk, clean cool air and the joys of squelching mud under foot. We talked of holidays in the sun, hams cooked in Cherry Coke and the haunted underground tunnels in Edinburgh. We cleared our lungs, stretched our legs and felt as if we'd worked off at least some of the inevitable Christmas weight. And I remembered that even though the winter rips the leaves from the trees and drags away the colour from the world, it is still beautiful out there.
We walked under the bare trees, along the muddy paths and down the hill again behind the green houses and along beside the badgers, before heading back to work. It was a wonderfully refreshing walk, clean cool air and the joys of squelching mud under foot. We talked of holidays in the sun, hams cooked in Cherry Coke and the haunted underground tunnels in Edinburgh. We cleared our lungs, stretched our legs and felt as if we'd worked off at least some of the inevitable Christmas weight. And I remembered that even though the winter rips the leaves from the trees and drags away the colour from the world, it is still beautiful out there.
Monday, January 09, 2006
well read
Having recently commented that afternoons of reading books were to be a thing of the past, I was almost grateful on Friday when I came down with a cold. Once I'd got a three and a half hour meeting out of the way and dragged my sorry self home, all that I could face was sitting on the sofa, reading books for the rest of the weekend. Joy of joys.
There's nothing that quite beats sitting curled up, head rested on soft pillows, cats warming your feet with your nose in a book whilst the rain pours down outside. Ok, I was surrounded with boxes of tissues, cough medicine and painkillers, but I didn't have to move.
In fact, I didn't even have to cook as James came over on Saturday evening, with a Sainsbury's bag full of goodies and promptly made us a gorgeous pizza each. We discussed New Years Eve parties and the terrible script writing on a certain BBC drama. I drank a glass of warmed red wine, medicinal of course, and I managed to keep talking until gone eleven when I finally started wilting and crawled off to bed.
Of course, lovely as it was to spend the weekend engrossed in Rebus novels, dreaming of Edinburgh and the highlands, it meant that all those things I was supposed to be doing are still not done. They now hang over me, constant reminders, and although I was ill and so therefore couldn't possibly have done them, I feel guilt as if I've skivved off. It will be a busy week of catching up, especially as today is the first day of term. This evening though, I'm off to Narnia with Katharine. Needs must.
There's nothing that quite beats sitting curled up, head rested on soft pillows, cats warming your feet with your nose in a book whilst the rain pours down outside. Ok, I was surrounded with boxes of tissues, cough medicine and painkillers, but I didn't have to move.
In fact, I didn't even have to cook as James came over on Saturday evening, with a Sainsbury's bag full of goodies and promptly made us a gorgeous pizza each. We discussed New Years Eve parties and the terrible script writing on a certain BBC drama. I drank a glass of warmed red wine, medicinal of course, and I managed to keep talking until gone eleven when I finally started wilting and crawled off to bed.
Of course, lovely as it was to spend the weekend engrossed in Rebus novels, dreaming of Edinburgh and the highlands, it meant that all those things I was supposed to be doing are still not done. They now hang over me, constant reminders, and although I was ill and so therefore couldn't possibly have done them, I feel guilt as if I've skivved off. It will be a busy week of catching up, especially as today is the first day of term. This evening though, I'm off to Narnia with Katharine. Needs must.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
freedom passing
It's the last day of the holidays for me. Tomorrow it is back to work, back to early mornings of darkness and days in front of the computer. I will no longer be able to sit, engrossed in a book on the sofa for an afternoon, but will dash off to meetings and plan workloads.
I was going to spend the day in London, going around the National Gallery and the Tate Britain with Mum, but unfortunately Dad has managed to do some serious-sounding damage to his foot, and so has to be ferried to and from work in stockinged feet. I hope it recovers before they depart for snowier climes. My second plan was to go for a nice long walk, but the weather put a stop to that. Rain clouds hovering and drizzle dampening didn't fill me with enthusiasm, so I loaded up the car with the recycling and headed off towards Lewes. Once the boot was empty, I took a leisurely drive through Offham and turned left to Plumpton, running the car smoothly along under the downs, through Ditchling and up the Beacon to that glorious view at the top. Fields upon fields of green, squared off with hedgerows and thick clumps of cloud hanging low over it all.
This afternoon I braved a walk into town, managing to restrain myself and only buy two books. I shall spend the next few hours writing Thank You cards and curling up with a cup of steaming coffee and a book, the last peaceful afternoon of freedom.
I was going to spend the day in London, going around the National Gallery and the Tate Britain with Mum, but unfortunately Dad has managed to do some serious-sounding damage to his foot, and so has to be ferried to and from work in stockinged feet. I hope it recovers before they depart for snowier climes. My second plan was to go for a nice long walk, but the weather put a stop to that. Rain clouds hovering and drizzle dampening didn't fill me with enthusiasm, so I loaded up the car with the recycling and headed off towards Lewes. Once the boot was empty, I took a leisurely drive through Offham and turned left to Plumpton, running the car smoothly along under the downs, through Ditchling and up the Beacon to that glorious view at the top. Fields upon fields of green, squared off with hedgerows and thick clumps of cloud hanging low over it all.
This afternoon I braved a walk into town, managing to restrain myself and only buy two books. I shall spend the next few hours writing Thank You cards and curling up with a cup of steaming coffee and a book, the last peaceful afternoon of freedom.
Saturday, December 31, 2005
green, green grass
With Christmas over; the wild boar devoured, the wine drunk, the presents unwrapped and the headaches gone, for the past few days I haven't been able to stop my mind wandering off to Spring. It seems such a long way off, with the cold and dreary months of January and February to come, and yet I can almost touch the soft new grass, the bright trumpets of daffodils and smell the scent of opening buds. I long to be surrounded by green, not the barren wasteland of leafless trees and bare gardens that I feel enclosed in now.
Next week I shall start my garden design course. I'm really looking forward to having something creative to get my teeth in to, and have already had a thousand ideas, foxgloves and hammocks, fountains and vegetables plots all stirring up in to a mass of colour. To me it is an exciting way to start the new year, with a new project that already has me enthralled.
On Monday I will also start dance classes with Lyndsey, a way to keep those pounds off I hope. We had a fabulous time at the ballet on Thursday, the dancing was better than last year, and the sets were amazing. We've promised to go up to London this year, to catch some more, if only as it makes us stand up straight and glide for the rest of the evening!
For now though, have a Very Happy New Year. May it bring you adventures galore!
Next week I shall start my garden design course. I'm really looking forward to having something creative to get my teeth in to, and have already had a thousand ideas, foxgloves and hammocks, fountains and vegetables plots all stirring up in to a mass of colour. To me it is an exciting way to start the new year, with a new project that already has me enthralled.
On Monday I will also start dance classes with Lyndsey, a way to keep those pounds off I hope. We had a fabulous time at the ballet on Thursday, the dancing was better than last year, and the sets were amazing. We've promised to go up to London this year, to catch some more, if only as it makes us stand up straight and glide for the rest of the evening!
For now though, have a Very Happy New Year. May it bring you adventures galore!
Thursday, December 22, 2005
touched
This week the office has been inundated with presents from members of faculty. We've had a large range of chocolates, bottles of bubbly and beautiful cyclamens in deep blood red. I could never say that we go unappreciated, with the thanks and well wishes we have received. It's been really heartening to know that we're doing a good job but I have to admit that I've never seen anything like the response we've had.
Everyone is winding down at the moment, and there is a general air of sleepiness set about the place. Voices are hushed, footsteps are small and dragged along the corridors, eyes opened blearily. My kettle has boiled many times today, and I've filled the room with the thick roasted smell of coffee in an effort to keep myself awake. I day dream of duvets and roasted chestnuts, of walking along Ashdown Forest as the sun begins to set, and warm glasses of red wine.
I am finally starting to feel Christmassy. This year it seems to have taken me so long, and now with only two days to go, I'm beginning to feel that tingle in my soul. In three days time I'll be tucking in to a succulent leg of wild boar, sitting around the table with my family, in the countryside again. Presents will be opened, jokes will be told and silly hats will be worn, in true Christmas spirit. So for me, there is only tomorrow morning to go before the holidays start.
Everyone is winding down at the moment, and there is a general air of sleepiness set about the place. Voices are hushed, footsteps are small and dragged along the corridors, eyes opened blearily. My kettle has boiled many times today, and I've filled the room with the thick roasted smell of coffee in an effort to keep myself awake. I day dream of duvets and roasted chestnuts, of walking along Ashdown Forest as the sun begins to set, and warm glasses of red wine.
I am finally starting to feel Christmassy. This year it seems to have taken me so long, and now with only two days to go, I'm beginning to feel that tingle in my soul. In three days time I'll be tucking in to a succulent leg of wild boar, sitting around the table with my family, in the countryside again. Presents will be opened, jokes will be told and silly hats will be worn, in true Christmas spirit. So for me, there is only tomorrow morning to go before the holidays start.
Monday, December 19, 2005
friday's success & sunday's sleeplessness
Friday was a success; not only did I find one black dress, I found three, and to compromise I bought two. I strolled around with Katharine and Sam, from shop to shop, holding up dresses, smiling into the mirror and after three quarters of an hour, found three in a row. It was a splendid afternoon, made even more splendid when I realised that one of them was a size ten.
To celebrate, the girls sat drinking nicely chilled wine and nibbling on Katharine's home made salsa and guacamole. We talked nonsense, shared our plans for the new year and vowed to meet up again in a couple of weeks.
Saturday I walked through the Lanes with Mum & Dad, dropping into shops and feeling the cold air redden my face. We stopped for lunch and talked books, presents and Christmas. I got home feeling achey and by six o'clock had a temperature and shook under the blanket on the sofa, wide eyed and pathetic. It meant I missed Ben's party, and the chance to wear my new dress. I was frustrated and fed up, so I picked up Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell again, and took myself away from the sofa.
Sunday was quiet, a day of reading The Sunday Times, ironing, and lounging in the bath. For a moment I thought the new-ish neighbours were moving out, that the late night noise and sleeplessness was over. I spoke too soon. At 2:00am I was still awake, pillow over head to blot out the music. It leaves me feeling tired today, and ever so slightly melancholy.
To celebrate, the girls sat drinking nicely chilled wine and nibbling on Katharine's home made salsa and guacamole. We talked nonsense, shared our plans for the new year and vowed to meet up again in a couple of weeks.
Saturday I walked through the Lanes with Mum & Dad, dropping into shops and feeling the cold air redden my face. We stopped for lunch and talked books, presents and Christmas. I got home feeling achey and by six o'clock had a temperature and shook under the blanket on the sofa, wide eyed and pathetic. It meant I missed Ben's party, and the chance to wear my new dress. I was frustrated and fed up, so I picked up Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell again, and took myself away from the sofa.
Sunday was quiet, a day of reading The Sunday Times, ironing, and lounging in the bath. For a moment I thought the new-ish neighbours were moving out, that the late night noise and sleeplessness was over. I spoke too soon. At 2:00am I was still awake, pillow over head to blot out the music. It leaves me feeling tired today, and ever so slightly melancholy.
Friday, December 16, 2005
the black dress
Today is a short day, I'll be leaving at 2pm to meet Katharine at St Peters Church. We are going on an expedition to find me a black dress. As yet, I'm not sure whether we will be successful. Although I know what I don't want, I'm not quite sure what I do want, which makes shopping for me, remarkably difficult.
I haven't had a black dress since I was an insect thin size eight, in my late teens and early twenties. I can't believe that I've gone the last six years without one, and the other day it got too much for me. I decided, whilst jotting down a list of things to do in my moleskine, that a black dress is a priority, a necessity. I must have one. And I must have one before Christmas. I suspect that jotting down things to do whilst watching "What Not To Wear" from the corner of my eye, is something I should do less of, it could get expensive.
I would like to have found the perfect dress, miraculously, in time for this evening. The girls are coming around for wine and nibbles to welcome in Christmas. I imagine smoked salmon, asparagus spears, thick lumps of melt in the mouth Camembert and glasses of dark rich red wine, and me, back straight, smiling in my beautiful black dress.
I know that by five o'clock I'll be tired, frustrated and in need of a bath to calm my nerves, but I'm crossing my fingers that, somehow, I find the dress and all will be right for an evening.
I haven't had a black dress since I was an insect thin size eight, in my late teens and early twenties. I can't believe that I've gone the last six years without one, and the other day it got too much for me. I decided, whilst jotting down a list of things to do in my moleskine, that a black dress is a priority, a necessity. I must have one. And I must have one before Christmas. I suspect that jotting down things to do whilst watching "What Not To Wear" from the corner of my eye, is something I should do less of, it could get expensive.
I would like to have found the perfect dress, miraculously, in time for this evening. The girls are coming around for wine and nibbles to welcome in Christmas. I imagine smoked salmon, asparagus spears, thick lumps of melt in the mouth Camembert and glasses of dark rich red wine, and me, back straight, smiling in my beautiful black dress.
I know that by five o'clock I'll be tired, frustrated and in need of a bath to calm my nerves, but I'm crossing my fingers that, somehow, I find the dress and all will be right for an evening.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
solitary
This morning I am alone. The office is open, the phones are ringing and the emails wash in as on every other day but for a change I'm here by myself. It is pleasant, to sit quietly working. I feel a soft calm in my fingers as they write, each word neater, each sentence given more thought. I move with no rush, and in my head I'm purring, little shivers down my spine.
The sun is streaming through the windows behind me, lighting up the white walls and throwing shadows that move and flicker. There is the gentle hum of everyday from the cafe along the corridor, occasional notes of the radio and laughs of conversation. People come in, and I smile and answer, unhurried.
To be this solitary every day would be lonley, but once in a while it is a pleasure to be enjoyed. This afternoon the bustle will be back to normal, with a Christmas Quiz, sticky mulled wine and too-sweet mince pies but this morning I am serene.
The sun is streaming through the windows behind me, lighting up the white walls and throwing shadows that move and flicker. There is the gentle hum of everyday from the cafe along the corridor, occasional notes of the radio and laughs of conversation. People come in, and I smile and answer, unhurried.
To be this solitary every day would be lonley, but once in a while it is a pleasure to be enjoyed. This afternoon the bustle will be back to normal, with a Christmas Quiz, sticky mulled wine and too-sweet mince pies but this morning I am serene.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
lunch with james
I have just come back from a lovely lunch with James. When I say lovely lunch, I describe the company and not the food. Although IDS provided me with a tuna baked potato, no one could describe it as lovely. Filling and functional would do it for me. James however, was happy, cheerful and full of interesting conversation. We discussed an article in today's Argus on the fury of local businesses, recent planning developments and the Brighton of the future.
James also explained deconstruction to me, fresh from the first term of his MA in Critical Theory, clarifying that the dictionary definition that I'd gone by was completely untrue and that deconstruction could have no definition. That, apparently, is the nature of the beast. After a while I began to feel as if I were slipping into some scientific explanation bordering on big bang theory. James fortunately stopped at this point, and let me buy a new moleskine (this one actually fits in my bag!) and Schott's Almanac. He says that, like me, it has no soul. I was reminded of the day I sold mine, for a champagne cocktail and a pair of kitten heels. Far too cheap really, now I come to think of it.
James also explained deconstruction to me, fresh from the first term of his MA in Critical Theory, clarifying that the dictionary definition that I'd gone by was completely untrue and that deconstruction could have no definition. That, apparently, is the nature of the beast. After a while I began to feel as if I were slipping into some scientific explanation bordering on big bang theory. James fortunately stopped at this point, and let me buy a new moleskine (this one actually fits in my bag!) and Schott's Almanac. He says that, like me, it has no soul. I was reminded of the day I sold mine, for a champagne cocktail and a pair of kitten heels. Far too cheap really, now I come to think of it.
Saturday, December 10, 2005
flight
This afternoon I went to watch my Dad paraglide off a hillside in Glynde. By the time Mum & I arrived everyone was starting to feel very tired, and the mood was much quieter that the jubilance I was expecting.
Dad had one good flight, but unfortunately the one I managed to see wasn't his best of the day. However, he seemed to enjoy himself and Mum and I are expecting him to start signing up for weekend courses and be an expert by this time next year!
I will book my own flight for the summer - it looked amazing, the graceful float through the air under this silk wing, looking out across the Sussex countryside in a field of alpacas. I think I could even cope with running up and down hills for an afternoon, just for those moments alone in the air.
Dad had one good flight, but unfortunately the one I managed to see wasn't his best of the day. However, he seemed to enjoy himself and Mum and I are expecting him to start signing up for weekend courses and be an expert by this time next year!
I will book my own flight for the summer - it looked amazing, the graceful float through the air under this silk wing, looking out across the Sussex countryside in a field of alpacas. I think I could even cope with running up and down hills for an afternoon, just for those moments alone in the air.
Friday, December 09, 2005
end of term
It is the last day of term, a day which started badly but is improving with each passing minute. It's a day of clearing up the office, taking extended lunch breaks and eating vast quantities of chocolate. On today's chocolate menu we have:
2 chocolate cakes
chocolate cornflake cakes
and chocolates!
We are all exhausted, we've worked hard and we've done very well, so today I feel proud of my team. We deserve the chocolate goodness!
2 chocolate cakes
chocolate cornflake cakes
and chocolates!
We are all exhausted, we've worked hard and we've done very well, so today I feel proud of my team. We deserve the chocolate goodness!
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
away with the fairies
I'm in a dream world today, my brain is refusing to engage in any practical way so I am left sitting, staring out of windows or doodling in my notebook for minutes at a time whilst my mind wanders.
So far today it's wandered off on an adventure looking for wine courses. I have seen a couple that look interesting, wine being something I'd like to get better at. Not necessarily drinking it, I can do that quite well enough. I'd like to know more about it, learn to appreciate it more than my current love of the opening glug.
My brain has also wandered off into spring, which is clever of it. It had a nice long walk by the river at Barcombe and stopped off at The Jolly Sportsman in East Chiltington (after a brief teleport from the river, obviously). I found this remarkable, having only ever been there as a child many years ago when I lived along the road (during the Family Adventure in the Countryside) and so not having partaken of the famously delicious food, but my brain seemed to know all about it. I'd like to point out that this was before lunch, since lunch my brain has remained reasonably far away from all restaurants.
It has been on a search for Christmas cards, which wasn't very exciting. It also got a little worried about impending recessions after reading an article on Jamie Oliver's new Fifteen Restaurant in Cornwall. And finally it found me a lovely hotel in Paris, which Lyndsey & myself will be visiting in May.
It is fortunate that I can do many things at once and keep up with all the work, but I'd quite like my brain to come back now. I feel quite dull without it.
So far today it's wandered off on an adventure looking for wine courses. I have seen a couple that look interesting, wine being something I'd like to get better at. Not necessarily drinking it, I can do that quite well enough. I'd like to know more about it, learn to appreciate it more than my current love of the opening glug.
My brain has also wandered off into spring, which is clever of it. It had a nice long walk by the river at Barcombe and stopped off at The Jolly Sportsman in East Chiltington (after a brief teleport from the river, obviously). I found this remarkable, having only ever been there as a child many years ago when I lived along the road (during the Family Adventure in the Countryside) and so not having partaken of the famously delicious food, but my brain seemed to know all about it. I'd like to point out that this was before lunch, since lunch my brain has remained reasonably far away from all restaurants.
It has been on a search for Christmas cards, which wasn't very exciting. It also got a little worried about impending recessions after reading an article on Jamie Oliver's new Fifteen Restaurant in Cornwall. And finally it found me a lovely hotel in Paris, which Lyndsey & myself will be visiting in May.
It is fortunate that I can do many things at once and keep up with all the work, but I'd quite like my brain to come back now. I feel quite dull without it.
Monday, December 05, 2005
rested
Unfortunately Feeder cancelled on Friday after about five songs due to a nasty throat infection. It was disappointing, but understandable, and at least I got to laugh at Goldie Looking Chain. James had never managed to get it across to me just how funny they actually are, I was very amused. So instead of watching Feeder, Dad and I wandered off, grabbed a pizza and drank cocktails until the early hours, discussing a multitude of things including religion and pulled muscles.
I woke on Saturday morning feeling remarkably well considering, made breakfast, drank coffee and then spent the rest of the day relaxing. It was fabulous. I did much the same on Sunday too. After the past couple of months, having an entire weekend to myself with nothing planned seemed too good to be true. I watched films, read books, read papers, had baths, made soups, stroked cats, took naps and generally spent a lot of time doing not much at all.
I still have four presents to buy, Christmas cards to get and send and a couple of other things to do, but they can wait. Having a peaceful weekend left me feeling rested and rejuvinated and was worth every blissful minute.
I woke on Saturday morning feeling remarkably well considering, made breakfast, drank coffee and then spent the rest of the day relaxing. It was fabulous. I did much the same on Sunday too. After the past couple of months, having an entire weekend to myself with nothing planned seemed too good to be true. I watched films, read books, read papers, had baths, made soups, stroked cats, took naps and generally spent a lot of time doing not much at all.
I still have four presents to buy, Christmas cards to get and send and a couple of other things to do, but they can wait. Having a peaceful weekend left me feeling rested and rejuvinated and was worth every blissful minute.
Friday, December 02, 2005
finishing stretch
Only one more week of term left, and I'm exhausted and aching and can't wait for it all to be over. We've been busy this week and next week looks like its going to be busier, but we're coping well and received a round of applause at a recent meeting for all our efforts. This would have cheered me more, if I hadn't have pulled my hamstrings badly in an effort to get fitter. I'm coming to the conclusion that exercise isn't necessarily good for you, having spent the last two days hobbling along in agony. Not clever.
Last night I forgot the pain, sat on the sofa with a blanket, a curry, a bottle of red wine and Katharine to gossip and giggle. It was a lovely evening, with Katharine praising my Christmas Tree and only spilling one glass of wine.
This evening I'm off to see Feeder. I suspect I may need more coffee first.
Last night I forgot the pain, sat on the sofa with a blanket, a curry, a bottle of red wine and Katharine to gossip and giggle. It was a lovely evening, with Katharine praising my Christmas Tree and only spilling one glass of wine.
This evening I'm off to see Feeder. I suspect I may need more coffee first.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
real air guitar?
Computer scientists in Finland have created the Virtual Air Guitar Project, which adds guitar sounds to the strumming of the air guitarist! I suspect Air Guitar Competitions may get somewhat louder in the future!
Monday, November 28, 2005
shopped out
On Saturday I braved the hoardes and took on Ikea and Bluewater to do my Christmas shopping. Ikea was a breeze but by the time we got to Bluewater the car park was heaving, Carluccio's had a queue the length of a bus and I was dying of thirst. Mum and I struggled on, stocking up on funky wrapping papers and heading out into the throngs to work our way down my list. Yes, I had planned ahead, I had a list. It was surprisingly helpful as it meant that I already knew which shops I needed and so just had to find them.
We managed to stop for lunch at 3:00ish, which having made the mistake of having no breakfast, could not come soon enough. A delicious porcini lasagna and a glass of red later, and I was dashing around, picking up the final presents and finding some fabulous party poppers and indoor sparklers in The White Company.
We drove home in the dark, ranting about the inability of people to drive in the correct lane on the motorway, amongst various other bug-bears, and was back in time for dinner. Then I dashed out to meet Sam, Donovan and others to celebrate Sam's birthday at Saqqara. Unfortunately by this time I was starting to flag and by 11pm I was having difficulty keeping my eyes open and so went home to bed, to sleep. Bliss.
Yesterday was wrapping day. The cats were asleep so it was the perfect time to get out the ribbon. By lunch time I was surrounded by neatly wrapped presents with bows, gems and name cards. So far I'm feeling fabulously organised & tonight I get down the tree ready for Thursday.
We managed to stop for lunch at 3:00ish, which having made the mistake of having no breakfast, could not come soon enough. A delicious porcini lasagna and a glass of red later, and I was dashing around, picking up the final presents and finding some fabulous party poppers and indoor sparklers in The White Company.
We drove home in the dark, ranting about the inability of people to drive in the correct lane on the motorway, amongst various other bug-bears, and was back in time for dinner. Then I dashed out to meet Sam, Donovan and others to celebrate Sam's birthday at Saqqara. Unfortunately by this time I was starting to flag and by 11pm I was having difficulty keeping my eyes open and so went home to bed, to sleep. Bliss.
Yesterday was wrapping day. The cats were asleep so it was the perfect time to get out the ribbon. By lunch time I was surrounded by neatly wrapped presents with bows, gems and name cards. So far I'm feeling fabulously organised & tonight I get down the tree ready for Thursday.
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
mmmmmm Porsches
It would seem that some German Police have been given Porsches to help chase our bad-boy-racers. It's certainly one incentive to help boost recruitment! However, I don't think even a Porsche would convince me to join the police. It could work on my brother though!
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
dragging
I'm not a big fan of days with little work, (obviously this excludes holidays, weekends and all those other times when I can ligitimately fill my time with reading books, etc) being at work and being bored makes the day drag horribly.
I've planned all the work that the office has to do for the next six weeks, which leaves me feeling especially organised, and just a little sad. I mean, it's my job to be organised but six weeks seems excessive. I wonder if people will look at me strangely when I start telling them what they will be doing in January.
This completed, I went back to planning something nearer to home. After the success of last nights parsnip and blue cheese soup, I've been thinking about food and dinner specifically. Why is it that my brain, when faced with hours of emptiness, always ends up coming around to food?
I've planned all the work that the office has to do for the next six weeks, which leaves me feeling especially organised, and just a little sad. I mean, it's my job to be organised but six weeks seems excessive. I wonder if people will look at me strangely when I start telling them what they will be doing in January.
This completed, I went back to planning something nearer to home. After the success of last nights parsnip and blue cheese soup, I've been thinking about food and dinner specifically. Why is it that my brain, when faced with hours of emptiness, always ends up coming around to food?
Friday, November 18, 2005
the kingfisher
I have finally found The Kingfisher poem that has been running around the back of my head for the past few weeks. It wasn't a Walter De La Mare poem at all, but W H Davies. I remember reading it as a child but for no apparent reason it popped into my head and has been floating around ever since.
Glad I found it at last! Now I just need to track down that John Donne book.
The Kingfisher
IT was the Rainbow gave thee birth,
And left thee all her lovely hues;
And, as her mother's name was Tears,
So runs it in my blood to choose
For haunts the lonely pools, and keep
In company with trees that weep.
Go you and, with such glorious hues,
Live with proud peacocks in green parks;
On lawns as smooth as shining glass,
Let every feather show its marks;
Get thee on boughs and clap thy wings
Before the windows of proud kings.
Nay, lovely Bird, thou art not vain;
Thou hast no proud, ambitious mind;
I also love a quiet place
That's green, away from all mankind;
A lonely pool, and let a tree
Sigh with her bosom over me.
W.H. Davies
Glad I found it at last! Now I just need to track down that John Donne book.
The Kingfisher
IT was the Rainbow gave thee birth,
And left thee all her lovely hues;
And, as her mother's name was Tears,
So runs it in my blood to choose
For haunts the lonely pools, and keep
In company with trees that weep.
Go you and, with such glorious hues,
Live with proud peacocks in green parks;
On lawns as smooth as shining glass,
Let every feather show its marks;
Get thee on boughs and clap thy wings
Before the windows of proud kings.
Nay, lovely Bird, thou art not vain;
Thou hast no proud, ambitious mind;
I also love a quiet place
That's green, away from all mankind;
A lonely pool, and let a tree
Sigh with her bosom over me.
W.H. Davies
Thursday, November 17, 2005
things i wish i had today
- Bratwurst with rösti
- My book of John Donne poetry (which mysteriously went missing two weeks ago)
- A hammock
- A bigger jumper
- Fingerless gloves (pointless, but I still love them)
frost
This morning I had to de-frost my car. It's the first time I've had to de-frost this particular car, having bought it after the weather started to warm in March. Although the car is lovely, the de-frosting has not become lovelier, it is still much the same as de-frosting any car, which is a pity.
There was also a frost on the grass as I drove up to the University. Beautiful little prickles of white grass and people wrapped in scarves with gloves and coats tightly done up. It's reassuring that the weather is finally getting colder, I had visions that we'd be having Christmas in t-shirts and shorts. There's nothing quite like a cold, clear Christmas morning, with the promise of mountains of food, wine and presents to make you feel all warm and snug inside. This year, for the first time in two years, I will not have to cook the Christmas Dinner, so I'm crossing my fingers for a clear bright morning to enjoy.
There was also a frost on the grass as I drove up to the University. Beautiful little prickles of white grass and people wrapped in scarves with gloves and coats tightly done up. It's reassuring that the weather is finally getting colder, I had visions that we'd be having Christmas in t-shirts and shorts. There's nothing quite like a cold, clear Christmas morning, with the promise of mountains of food, wine and presents to make you feel all warm and snug inside. This year, for the first time in two years, I will not have to cook the Christmas Dinner, so I'm crossing my fingers for a clear bright morning to enjoy.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
flu
I hate being ill. I hate the aching joints, the chesty cough, the sore and swollen throat and streaming eyes. I hate feeling as if my head is full of dense matter, and that my brain has completely disappeared. I hate the cold feeling, despite being wrapped up in many layers, under a duvet and with the heating on. I hate it when the cat sits on your knee and becomes the most uncomfortable thing in the world. I hate the not sleeping, not wanting to eat and the endless tissues.
Fortunately I feel better now. No more tissues, duvets, unhappy cats or dense brains for me!
I love being well!
Fortunately I feel better now. No more tissues, duvets, unhappy cats or dense brains for me!
I love being well!
Thursday, November 10, 2005
rampant villagers
I was somewhat entertained this morning whilst reading The Argus. It would seem that the village I was born in, Scaynes Hill, is having issues with swingers and a fetish club.
"Nudist days, spanking evenings, fetish swingers parties and pole dancing have all been promised by Club Liberty, the new management, much to the dismay of neighbours in the heart of conservative rural Sussex."
As one villager pointed out, you don't really expect a fetish club in a small West Sussex village. Things have changed since my day!
"Nudist days, spanking evenings, fetish swingers parties and pole dancing have all been promised by Club Liberty, the new management, much to the dismay of neighbours in the heart of conservative rural Sussex."
As one villager pointed out, you don't really expect a fetish club in a small West Sussex village. Things have changed since my day!
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
golden leaves
I'm missing the countryside again. I suspect the leaves are not helping. When I parked the car this morning, it was parked into a pile of lovely thick golden leaves. I put on my coat and scarf and had a sudden desire to grab my wellies from the back of the car, pull them on and kick all the leaves around. Unfortunately I quelled this desire, slung my bag over my shoulder, and climbed up the steps to my office. In hindsight it was the wrong decision, at 8:00am the car park is pretty much empty and so I wouldn't have embarassed myself too much.
The beginning of this week has been lovely and quiet. Now we are over half way through term, I can expect the work to quicken, and it will do as the week goes on. But I enjoyed a relaxed Sunday reading PD James, and a Monday evening cooking chicken casserole and playing with the cats.
On Friday I've booked myself another massage. It is turning into a regular weekly appointment now and has done my back a world of good. As I leave, I feel the whole world has been lifted, each muscle stretched slightly and then relaxed, falling back into place and not tensing. On Friday I was treated to some Reiki, a little unnerving at first, but by the end of it I could feel myself pulsing with energy.
On Saturday I'm having my hair cut again. I've now got used to having it that bit shorter, and that much curlier, and am looking forward to an hours worth of pampering. I've then got to make a start on the Christmas presents, before heading out to Ben's 30th Birthday Party in the evening. I promise to try not to point and giggle, after all, thirty isn't that far off for me.
The beginning of this week has been lovely and quiet. Now we are over half way through term, I can expect the work to quicken, and it will do as the week goes on. But I enjoyed a relaxed Sunday reading PD James, and a Monday evening cooking chicken casserole and playing with the cats.
On Friday I've booked myself another massage. It is turning into a regular weekly appointment now and has done my back a world of good. As I leave, I feel the whole world has been lifted, each muscle stretched slightly and then relaxed, falling back into place and not tensing. On Friday I was treated to some Reiki, a little unnerving at first, but by the end of it I could feel myself pulsing with energy.
On Saturday I'm having my hair cut again. I've now got used to having it that bit shorter, and that much curlier, and am looking forward to an hours worth of pampering. I've then got to make a start on the Christmas presents, before heading out to Ben's 30th Birthday Party in the evening. I promise to try not to point and giggle, after all, thirty isn't that far off for me.
Sunday, November 06, 2005
lewes bonfire
Lewes was great fun this year. For once I was able to see all the processions that came down the High Streeet, without being trampled on and squished in the crowds! Cliffe had canon which blew rookies out down the street, there was a fabulous German band who had joined in Commercial Square's procession and the costumes were beautiful as always.
Instead of going to Waterloo we went to Commercial Square, who were celebrating their 150th year. The fireworks were beautiful and although my neck had started to ache by the end of it, the rain held off and it was surprisingly warm for the whole evening.
Instead of going to Waterloo we went to Commercial Square, who were celebrating their 150th year. The fireworks were beautiful and although my neck had started to ache by the end of it, the rain held off and it was surprisingly warm for the whole evening.
Friday, November 04, 2005
birthday one
Happy Birthday to Rachel! Katharine and I will be cooking a delicious dinner tonight to celebrate Rachel's birthday as I can't make her party tomorrow due to the Lewes Bonfire Night.
I'm really looking forward to it. I haven't made it to Lewes in years, mostly because getting back on the trains is such a nightmare, but I have always loved the it. I used to live in Lewes until I was about 7, and even got my photo on the front page of the Sussex Express one year when I tagged along to a procession dressed as Little Bo Beep, complete with cuddly goat under my arm. Very sweet. However, I suspect that whichever Society I hopped along with were rather unimpressed!
This year I shall be camping out in my Dad's office, with the perfect view over the High Street for the processions, so hopefully will keep dry for some of the time.
I'm really looking forward to it. I haven't made it to Lewes in years, mostly because getting back on the trains is such a nightmare, but I have always loved the it. I used to live in Lewes until I was about 7, and even got my photo on the front page of the Sussex Express one year when I tagged along to a procession dressed as Little Bo Beep, complete with cuddly goat under my arm. Very sweet. However, I suspect that whichever Society I hopped along with were rather unimpressed!
This year I shall be camping out in my Dad's office, with the perfect view over the High Street for the processions, so hopefully will keep dry for some of the time.
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