Category
Family
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12.08.02Deck the HallsWoken up early by sis saying "can we have presents yet?" Attempt to go back to sleep Fail Go downstairs and eat enormous breakfast with fresh coffee, crumpets, fresh OJ and pannetone Light fire in living room Slump on sofa with coffee Mum tries to persuade us to come to church with her She fails She goes to church while we watch Jason and the Argonauts or Sinbad. Gotta love Ray Harryhausen. Brother falls asleep on sofa. Meg pokes fire. Anna says "can we open presents?" Mum back from church. Oven on for chicken / nut roast / goose / ...
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12.08.02Cow GumIn the late seventies and early eighties, my mum was working as an editor for a national magazine. A couple of days before my seventh birthday, I must have either been on holiday or there might have been a strike at school - I don't remember which, but either way, one afternoon I went to visit her in the busy editorial office in the middle of London. [aside: this was at a time when it was considered completely fine for seven year old girls to catch the tube into central London on their own. Who knew?] So there I was, sitting ...
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12.08.02On CarnivalThe sensation of a strangers' boner on your backside as you bump and wine' with the crowd behind a truck. Ick. Acute tinnitus and vibrating chest-cavity from standing too close to sound systems. Ow. Bewildered wonderment at the people who bring pushchairs and umbrellas to the event. Er, why? Amusement as one of your friends asks about toilets. Heh. Complete bemusement as you manage to individually bump into four people you haven't seen for at least a decade, in a crowd of a million. Odd. I'm a carnival kid. I can't help it. I grew up in Notting Hill in the seventies, when it ...
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12.08.02On CakeI once attended an interview in which my fellow interviewer asked the hapless candidate a surprising question. After quizzing her about personal work qualities, experience of working within tight deadlines and what she thought she could bring to such a challenging role, he asked her whether a Jaffa Cake was, in fact, a cake or a biscuit.She launched into a response ("It's a biscuit, obviously"), and then pondered out loud at the name ("...of course it's called a cake...") which caused her to stumble and lapse into silence, unable to answer conclusively.The correct answer, of course (and you might want ...
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12.08.02On BooksA couple of years ago, when I lived in Maida Vale, my looney flatmate (who had appalling taste in tourist tat - ethnic carvings and folk art and the like: truly shuddersome) informed me one day that she doesn't like books, because they clutter the house up. Even on the bookshelves. "So where," I inquired, "do you propose I keep them?" I shouldn't have asked. Apparently, bookshelves are for ornaments and photo frames and candles, while any books that I'm not reading at the moment (and there are many, many, many), should be packed into boxes and "stored in the ...
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12.08.02The Big OneI found a picture of my little sister Binnie and I with mouths wide open and screaming on the Pepsi Max Big One roller coaster at Blackpool Pleasure Beach in 1996. The look on our faces, taken halfway round the ride, is of a dizzy blend of terror and delight. I'm fine with heights and speed and scary rides. I have no problem at all with any fairground ride, with the possible exception of the waltzer, whose lurching and violent spinning action once caused me to wave cheerio to my lunch and rather too much home-made apricot brandy at the beach ...
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11.28.02StabbingSo anyway, the airport stabbing incident. I should point out before we go any further that if your definition of stabbing is limited to activities involving knives and bleeding, then sorry to disappoint, but I wasn't actually stabbed. I've never actually been stabbed like that, thankfully. Sure, there was that one time when my brother tried to fake me out, doing that thing when you lunge at someone's upper arm knife-point first, only to fake and twist your wrist so that the knife ends up parallel to the arm instead of perpendicular to it, and you wind up thumping the victim square ...
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11.07.02Random moment from the last few days:My mum leaving me a note on the kitchen table saying "Thanks for the stay - lovely to see you and P. I left you a few things to post up to Scotland so I don't have to lug them around Switzerland. You should try therapy, I think you'd enjoy it as much as I did - Love Jan xxx"It took two days of being slightly offended at her casual advice and interfering attitude to my current (not that concerning, quite normal actually) life stresses, for me to realise that she was actually referring to the book, which she'd left ...
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11.02.02You must never go down to the end of the town…I feel curiously like James James Morrison Morrison Weatherby George Dupree.I should elaborate. My mum came to stay for a few days, en route to Switzerland and a sabbatical. Although she booked her flights a month ago, I didn't write down when she was arriving, or in fact, from where. She was definitely flying into Luton, but I couldn't remember if she was coming from Edinburgh or Glasgow, which meant I couldn't easily look up the timetable and figure out her likely arrival time. I also knew that we'd had an unfocused conversation a few weeks before about our local ...
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09.19.02Moving right alongWow, how do you follow a post like that? Thanks for all the messages of congratulations, love and support. P and I are extremely surprised and flattered and thankful.Before we go any further, a few points which have been raised, which I want to get out of the way to end speculation or misunderstanding... When? Short answer: not sure. Longer answer: next year, but not sure exactly when. There are a lot of variables and things to take into consideration, and right now we're just really enjoying being together. Where? See above. His family in the North East, mine in Scotland, the ...
