Friday night was a combination of the weird and wonderful in terms of music, with the added frisson of tequila and toilet roll. Tom, Dan, Kerry and myself headed along to the Komedia to see Victoria Hume play. As mentioned in a previous post, Vic has a superb voice and it was interesting to hear them play as a band, rather than Vic alone and acoustic. I’m hoping that she gets more gigs down in Brighton, as I’d love to hear more of her.
Vic was followed by Circulus, whom Steve found (perhaps due to the tequila, although he did buy the album) worthy of engaging in Morris dancing with toilet rolls. I’m amazed that he managed to get a few unsuspecting audience members to join in, if only for a short and for them I’d imagine, confused time. Despite being urged to join in, I felt it my place to simply document the procedures, so see photos here.
As is often the case when tequila is involved, the night proceeded to continue until the small hours, with further alcohol and Tom & Dan doing their obligatory fighting. Injuries followed, as they are wont to do, and Deep Heat has been applied.
This rather long and debauched evening, along with the recent full diary, led me to spend a quiet and restful Saturday evening at home with the cats. Feeling somewhat neglected recently, they enjoyed the copious amounts of fussing they received in a heart warming fashion, and curled up beside me as I nodded off. It would have been a perfect nights sleep if I hadn’t ruined it by waking inexplicably at 2:40am and found it nigh-on impossible to get back to sleep for a good hour or so. Fortunately though, a lie in on Sunday is obligatory and a slow start to the day, with a breakfast of scrambled egg and bacon and freshly brewed coffee followed by Phillip Pullman for the afternoon, and curry for dinner, meant that I once again feel human and ready to face the week.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Friday, July 28, 2006
changes afoot
Over the past few weeks I have come to a decision about where to go next. It’s been a tricky decision to make with all the other changes going on (well, the prospect of imminent mortgage). As I recently posted, I’ve been feeling restless and I’ve worked out what it is: I need to change my career.
I only ever got into doing admin as a stop gap between school and university, but with that being nine years ago now it has become far more than a stop gap and more of a weight that I have felt unable to unhook myself from.
As the recent months have gone by, I’ve become more and more aware of the fact that I am unfulfilled in this area of my life. I don’t feel tested, or that I’m putting my skills to their best uses. I don’t want to end up stuck here, resenting that I never made that leap and drudging through each day. So I’ve made up my mind, changes are afoot I shall be making a leap. I just hope I don’t land awkwardly.
I only ever got into doing admin as a stop gap between school and university, but with that being nine years ago now it has become far more than a stop gap and more of a weight that I have felt unable to unhook myself from.
As the recent months have gone by, I’ve become more and more aware of the fact that I am unfulfilled in this area of my life. I don’t feel tested, or that I’m putting my skills to their best uses. I don’t want to end up stuck here, resenting that I never made that leap and drudging through each day. So I’ve made up my mind, changes are afoot I shall be making a leap. I just hope I don’t land awkwardly.
Monday, July 24, 2006
amoureux
I’m in love. I’m in love with Paris, with a weekend that despite the constant heat, the blisters and the aching legs, was filled with beauty and delight.
At first, with those tentative steps out of the Gard du Nord into the rows of restaurants and sex shops, I felt a little disappointed. I was tired, with two hours sleep and a snooze on the train, and I needed lunch. We walked along, heavy bags on our backs with the blazing sun beating down until we gave up, stopping at a small brasserie and ordering salad in pigin-french, words sticking and refusing to form.
The metro only confused me, I stood about wondering which direction, which line, and under ground was so much hotter. But then suddenly we were up above ground again, on the left bank and on the road we needed. A boulevard lined with trees and people, and suddenly behind me was the river, and the Louvre, and Notre Dame and then I felt it.
We spent the afternoon walking along the left bank, dog-tired but determined to make it from Notre Dame to the Jardin des Plantes. We drank water by the gallon and trudged through back streets and squares where people sat in the sun, or basked below the cool shade of trees. We had time to sleep before we headed out for dinner, at one of the only restaurants in the area that wasn’t Japanese. The food was simple but delicious and set us up for the succession of mohito’s we drank at a bar round the corner.
On Saturday morning I felt it again as we walked through the entrance to the Palais de Louvre and stood, necks craned to take it all in. It bowled me over, the size and the beauty; it struck me dumb. But on we went, through the Jardin des Tuileries and up the Champs Elysees to the Arc d’Triomphe. Then down towards the river again and the Eiffel Tower. The queues were too long to spend time in, and so we missed the journey to the top and views over Paris. Instead we walked on, along the Quai D’Orsay to take in the Musee D’Orsay before heading back to change for dinner.
As the sun began to sink on yet another beautiful day, we climbed aboard and sailed gently up and down the Seine, delighting in four courses and the cool breeze that rushed in on either side of the boat. The views were wonderful, from the rows of tents on the riverside to the Eiffel Tower, lit up in sparkling lights and bathing all with the searchlight. We left feeling tired but contented, to stroll along the streets of Saint-Germain in the cool darkness.
Now home again I feel a tug for Paris, a longing for all the things we didn’t get to see, but I know that it was a glorious weekend, and one I shall not forget.
At first, with those tentative steps out of the Gard du Nord into the rows of restaurants and sex shops, I felt a little disappointed. I was tired, with two hours sleep and a snooze on the train, and I needed lunch. We walked along, heavy bags on our backs with the blazing sun beating down until we gave up, stopping at a small brasserie and ordering salad in pigin-french, words sticking and refusing to form.
The metro only confused me, I stood about wondering which direction, which line, and under ground was so much hotter. But then suddenly we were up above ground again, on the left bank and on the road we needed. A boulevard lined with trees and people, and suddenly behind me was the river, and the Louvre, and Notre Dame and then I felt it.
We spent the afternoon walking along the left bank, dog-tired but determined to make it from Notre Dame to the Jardin des Plantes. We drank water by the gallon and trudged through back streets and squares where people sat in the sun, or basked below the cool shade of trees. We had time to sleep before we headed out for dinner, at one of the only restaurants in the area that wasn’t Japanese. The food was simple but delicious and set us up for the succession of mohito’s we drank at a bar round the corner.
On Saturday morning I felt it again as we walked through the entrance to the Palais de Louvre and stood, necks craned to take it all in. It bowled me over, the size and the beauty; it struck me dumb. But on we went, through the Jardin des Tuileries and up the Champs Elysees to the Arc d’Triomphe. Then down towards the river again and the Eiffel Tower. The queues were too long to spend time in, and so we missed the journey to the top and views over Paris. Instead we walked on, along the Quai D’Orsay to take in the Musee D’Orsay before heading back to change for dinner.
As the sun began to sink on yet another beautiful day, we climbed aboard and sailed gently up and down the Seine, delighting in four courses and the cool breeze that rushed in on either side of the boat. The views were wonderful, from the rows of tents on the riverside to the Eiffel Tower, lit up in sparkling lights and bathing all with the searchlight. We left feeling tired but contented, to stroll along the streets of Saint-Germain in the cool darkness.
Now home again I feel a tug for Paris, a longing for all the things we didn’t get to see, but I know that it was a glorious weekend, and one I shall not forget.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
the hunt is on
The flat hunting has started; I’ve seen three so far this week with another lined up for tomorrow. Walking around them is a rather new experience; I’m being allowed to be nosey. I can peer at cracks in the walls, check for damp and inspect kitchen units and bathrooms with more care that the average visitor. I can ask pointed questions about the area or the neighbours, can remark on redecorating or “ripping that out”.
At first it seemed almost rude, to be walking around someone’s home and mentally taking the place apart. It has been made easier by the fact that so far it is always estate agents who have taken me round, and never the homeowner or tenant. I could imagine that my comments on “the obvious damp problem in the bathroom” and “why on earth did they paint the kitchen dark red?” would be somewhat curtailed if faced with the vendor.
Of the three seen so far, one was a definite “no” with a garden you would need crampons to climb. One was in nice condition, with a new kitchen and a garden which showed lots of potential, but it will be sold by now and to be honest, it had a little too much done for my liking. I would like somewhere that needs more work. The third flat was much more exciting, showing lots of promise and with character, but again there is an issue with the garden.
I am not holding out for a perfect flat but for something with potential, and the selection I’ve seen so far has been interesting. It is great to finally be at the stage where I can go and see property, and when people are coming to see the house. Although with this new rush of energy I realise that I will miss the old house, if only a little, because it has been such a solid home to me and so many of my friends for so long. I only get glimpses of this though, because the rest of me is far more excited to be moving!
At first it seemed almost rude, to be walking around someone’s home and mentally taking the place apart. It has been made easier by the fact that so far it is always estate agents who have taken me round, and never the homeowner or tenant. I could imagine that my comments on “the obvious damp problem in the bathroom” and “why on earth did they paint the kitchen dark red?” would be somewhat curtailed if faced with the vendor.
Of the three seen so far, one was a definite “no” with a garden you would need crampons to climb. One was in nice condition, with a new kitchen and a garden which showed lots of potential, but it will be sold by now and to be honest, it had a little too much done for my liking. I would like somewhere that needs more work. The third flat was much more exciting, showing lots of promise and with character, but again there is an issue with the garden.
I am not holding out for a perfect flat but for something with potential, and the selection I’ve seen so far has been interesting. It is great to finally be at the stage where I can go and see property, and when people are coming to see the house. Although with this new rush of energy I realise that I will miss the old house, if only a little, because it has been such a solid home to me and so many of my friends for so long. I only get glimpses of this though, because the rest of me is far more excited to be moving!
Friday, July 07, 2006
flitting
Since Tom's return from Roskilde on Monday the week has flown by in a concoction of busyness or sleepiness. I suspect the term "burning the candle at both ends" would not quite cover it. In fact I think we got all the candles we could find and set light to them, indeed at many times during the week my brain has felt like a puddle of warm wax.
We had a lovely adventure up to Regents Park Open Air Theatre on Wednesday evening, to watch The Taming of The Shrew. Having missed our train by about 30 seconds, we unfortunately couldn't sup on parcels of deliciousness at Ping Pong. We made up for it with Bratwurst and bubbly followed by chocolate truffle cake, whilst we basked in the warmth of the evening, grateful that it didn't rain after all.
Yesterday evening was Pirate evening, and after meeting at the Fortune of War, we all piled in to the cinema, tricorns aplenty, to "yarrrrr" at Cap'n Jack Sparrow. I am wondering if Joh, Ed and James will be organising another of the fabled "Pirate Nights", but have heard no whispers yet. I quite fancy another swashbuckling adventure, but not today, for today is Katharine's birthday party and I'm not sure she'd appreciate it!
We had a lovely adventure up to Regents Park Open Air Theatre on Wednesday evening, to watch The Taming of The Shrew. Having missed our train by about 30 seconds, we unfortunately couldn't sup on parcels of deliciousness at Ping Pong. We made up for it with Bratwurst and bubbly followed by chocolate truffle cake, whilst we basked in the warmth of the evening, grateful that it didn't rain after all.
Yesterday evening was Pirate evening, and after meeting at the Fortune of War, we all piled in to the cinema, tricorns aplenty, to "yarrrrr" at Cap'n Jack Sparrow. I am wondering if Joh, Ed and James will be organising another of the fabled "Pirate Nights", but have heard no whispers yet. I quite fancy another swashbuckling adventure, but not today, for today is Katharine's birthday party and I'm not sure she'd appreciate it!
Monday, July 03, 2006
softly sunday
Having spent Saturday morning trawling estate agents (very exciting) and Saturday afternoon helping Katharine & Rich move (not quite as exciting, but somehow rewarding), it was a relief to put the top down on the car and speed off into the countryside yesterday for my brothers birthday barbeque.
It was such a beautiful morning, and like me, my car loves the sunshine. I sped along the A27 on nearly clear roads, turning off through the Cuilfail tunnel and Ringmer and taking the longer route to Mum & Dad's. The engine purred along the country roads, wind swept my hair and I couldn't help but smile.
My little brother turned twenty-four, and celebrated with his friends on Saturday night. Feeling slightly the worse for wear, he was still up and about (just) in time for lunch. I turned burgers and sausages whilst the family drank Pimms. The garden, shaded now by trees that have grown since I lived there, was lovely and dappled; keeping the worst of the midday heat at bay.
We talked for hours, and picked at salads, strawberries and cherries in kirsch and soft French and Italian cheeses. It was a perfect afternoon in quiet countryside, and a lovely cooler drive back to Brighton, the evening sunshine beating on my sunsoaked skin
It was such a beautiful morning, and like me, my car loves the sunshine. I sped along the A27 on nearly clear roads, turning off through the Cuilfail tunnel and Ringmer and taking the longer route to Mum & Dad's. The engine purred along the country roads, wind swept my hair and I couldn't help but smile.
My little brother turned twenty-four, and celebrated with his friends on Saturday night. Feeling slightly the worse for wear, he was still up and about (just) in time for lunch. I turned burgers and sausages whilst the family drank Pimms. The garden, shaded now by trees that have grown since I lived there, was lovely and dappled; keeping the worst of the midday heat at bay.
We talked for hours, and picked at salads, strawberries and cherries in kirsch and soft French and Italian cheeses. It was a perfect afternoon in quiet countryside, and a lovely cooler drive back to Brighton, the evening sunshine beating on my sunsoaked skin
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
