Word blindness

Pops and I were working a code word puzzle in the evening standard. It's one where I was being a bit risky with putting in the letters (feeling like sometimes I had to try it in order to move forward). One of the cross checks could have been SHAM or WHAM, with the word WHIM/SHIM/WHOM/SHOM. We eventually decided it had to be WHOM - a word neither of us knew but were pronouncing WOM. Only on looking it up in the dictionary did we realise this is that commonly used word whom. 

whom

huːm/

pronoun

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   used instead of ‘who’ as the object of a verb or preposition.

We laughed at ourselves. 

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Pets in the supermarket

Been to the vets (by public transport) on the way home popped into the supermarket. Put the cat basket in the trolley and hoped nobody would notice. Which almost nobody did. Is it bad? My feeling is that while not quite ok it's less bad than taking a dead mouse in one of my shopping bags and accidentally tipping it out on the floor by the checkout...

Close

In the dead of night lying wrapped around the hard body of my bedfellow. Secure in the arms that hold me. Nuzzling into his neck and toying with his earlobe. The bed is familiar. The night dark and shadows in the room are normal to me. The trundling night trains passing have become soothing over time rather than distracting. These are the times. The times of whispered dreams and hopes. Of soothing words and accompanying strokes. A hand over hair, brushing skin of the shoulder and hollow of the lower back. Comforting. Lovely. 

Autumn

Silver birch trees flashing the pale undersides of their leaves in the wind. A delightful flickering of brightness in the autumn sunshine. 

Post exercise blues

Been having some bad days recently. Despondent and out of sorts. Itchy feet. Unhappy. I've been putting it down to a sense of boredom and feeling the need to broaden my horizons. Someone at work today said she knew exactly what it was. Post gym blues. She said I complain of this on the days after I've been in the gym. Post seretonin come down or something. Apart from the health benefits, I always knew the gym was bad for you!!

The world according to...

Tottenham mother on the school run (by bus). Talking on the phone to a girlfriend, child chattering next to her whispering why do you always do this to me never talk to me...

The mother is saying

I have to say though, bacon tastes nice in a sandwich. Nah but bacon doesn't count as pork. I don't eat pork but I so eat bacon and sausage...

The kid starts whinging in a way that sounds like a cat meowing.

Wandering hands

It's hard to decide whether its accidental or purposeful brushing or touching, when crammed together on the tube swaying from the motion of the train on its forward trajectory. I became aware of a light touch in the groin area and saw a mans large hand with the knuckles leaning against me, so I moved away slightly. My stop came. I got off walking with the throng of crowd towards the escalator, stepped on, suddenly aware of a body close behind me. Tall. Sort of looming. But escalators are crowded in rush hour and people do step up right behind you in these busy times. And then the brush of something lightly against my buttock. Could be accidental. Could be. Just not at all sure that it was. A cursory backward glance revealed the same man with the knuckles. And then I stepped off at the top and walked away. 

Hastings

Being by the sea is a lovely thing - mesmerising and in persistent motion with light sparkling off it in ways that delight the brain and brighten the atmosphere. 

And then there are the things that we don't see everyday - the mangled ironwork of the burned-down pier rising out if the sea, massive baby seagulls sitting on car roofs in the car park, fishing boats beached on the shingle having been dragged out if the water, double story beach huts for drying fishing nets, man frying white fish freshly caught and tucking it into fresh buns. 

Public Transport

The trouble with public transport (and I'm not going to moan about late, crowded and cancelled because while its par for the course we are actually pretty lucky in London with tubes every couple of minutes and our iconic red buses) is the presence of occasionally over-hot and large other passengers. A man sat next to me on the bus. He sat right next to me. His thigh touched the full length of mine and he was wearing a scratchy woollen sleeveless cardigan that itched my bare arms (26 degrees today - really no need for a jacket). As we rode along I gradually became aware of his temperature. Not sure whether it was rising or just seeping through his jeans. He was very tall and broad. I started to feel quite enclosed. And very hot. It was only when he got up and left that I realised that I was feeling his sweat through my skirt. Sadly I didn't have enough time to cool down because a woman took his seat almost straight away. Nowhere near his bulk but her upper thigh is against mine. And I can feel the heat heating up again... 

Breakfast streaking

Bails thought she had left the front door keys in the door of Rodney's flat. Forgetting that despite it being a side basement door that there is a view to the street she opened the door in the buff to check just as a woman walked past. 

Disgusting people

I work in an open plan office. I have just seen a colleague diagonally opposite dig his ear with a bic biro lid and then examine it before he licked it off. Ugh. Bet he is a nose picker as well. 

Cravings

I'm wondering, 8 months on whether I will ever be able to slake my craving for beef. Particularly in steak or burger form. Will it take me 26 years (length of my vegetarian gap) to catch up?

Classy bar staff

I came into a classy restaurant with a bar. Sat on a comfortable stool at the marble topped bar. Ordered a cocktail sitting where the barman makes the drinks. It is happy hour. I got two cocktails for the price of one. The barman spilled chipped ice around that looked like rough cut diamonds. The other clientele were all couples. I watched the barman and wished mr was here. By the time I started my second cocktail I was perhaps one sheet to the wind and managed to tip some down my shirt. Barman just quietly placed some additional napkins by my setting without even seeming to notice what I had done. Classy. Very classy. 

Strict Undergarments

I found myself in Harmony looking at corsets. Helped by a lovely oriental assistant to actually get into them. We started with a purple one I picked off the shelf - lovely colour. She pulled it tight in the middle. Just about able to breathe. And then laced it up and down. And then went for a second tightening. Breathing was optional I decided. I can see why ladies used to faint. I can also see how you might get hooked on the constriction - it makes you 100% aware of your body (posture, movement, breathing and shape). We decided it didn't fit on the bust. All the squeezing meant it barely covered it. 

We tried a black one next. Much better fit, if a less exciting colour. In between she decided I had to get rid of the bra I was wearing cos it did nothing for me. And I felt I had to listen - this was a lady who looked and sounded like she would take no shit. And then she wanted to take pictures to show my boyfriend, who she believed would love it (despite the fact she knew nothing of him). Her direction was strict - look sultry, don't smile, be confident, don't do your arm like that. And she hated the iPhone camera. 

There's something special about underwear sales assistants. Very complementary but honest if that makes any sense. Not afraid to burst in and make themselves known. 

I always thought I ought to have been born a Victorian! 

Through the Wardrobe

From Rye Lane, Peckham, we drove up through the multi-storey car park and then walked through the iron gates into a display of installation and sculpture accompanied by a warm up for the London Contemporary Music Festival by a choir with their faces painted white.

Finally out onto the top floor to find Frank's cafe and cocktails. Blue sky and sparkling. A haven with a full panoramic view at the top of Peckham. Full of Shoreditch types. Drinking cocktails that were pre-made. Joined an empty queue and was helpfully told I had gone the wrong way (lots of rules in this transplanted Hoxton). The waitresses wore hot pants with their bum cheeks hanging out. And we started off sharing a table with a couple of fluorescent haired tattooed pierced suburbanites. We eventually had to move from their inane gossip. 

Weird and otherworldly. Most unlike what you expect to find on top of a car park. 

A baby seagull had taken a dive from the nest but could launch himself back into the air. He was all long legs and mottled fluffy feathers. His mum dive bombed the drinkers but they mostly didn't notice her or the baby seagull. 

In the corner someone hemmed the trouser leg of one of the choir members. 

And then we went home descending through the floors back out into the reality of Peckham. 

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Cafe Viva

Intense young woman and her apple notebook rubs the shoulder of her friend vigorously. The friend is dressed in the style of a land girl from the forties and is bent over her iPhone texting and rolling a cigarette with liquorice papers. When she finishes, she gets up and leaves, pecking the intense girl on the cheek on the way out. The man sitting next to me has slicked back hair and a moustache that curls at both ends. Head from the 1930s, dressed like a grungy festival hippy. The weather has cooled. They are digging up the street outside and a dustbin lorry goes past stinking. Intense girl turns the volume up on her phonecall to be heard. We all hear. 

Singular of Sheep

At an artists studio someone said (while looking at a wicker sculpture of a sheep) why isn't there a singular of sheep. I said it could follow the pattern of teeth and tooth - a singular of sheep could be shoop. But why don't we have a singular of sheep, someone asked. Maybe I thought because sheep don't normally come in ones. They come in flocks. 

Ly-cester Square

I'm waiting for my companions for the evening. Leicester Square. Being renovated has a mirrored awning around the fountain which reflects back the passing throng of tourists which this area now almost exclusively attracts. More foreign languages spoken here than English. Could be on holiday. 

It's warm. People are strewn over the grass like they've been here all day. The evening sun is waning slowly. On the opposite corner the police arrest and take away a seemingly compliant tramp who looked like he was about to pitch a tent. 

Mostly people are eating burgers and fries and eating pig fat ice creams despite the fact there is a Haggan Das shop on one side and a Ben and Jerry's on the other. 

It's stretched into a long 20 minutes. Possibly double. Still waiting. 

Waving not drowning

I'm on the train that passes his house and on the phone to him at the same time. He comes outside and waves at the train as it goes past. I'm in the third carriage first doors I say waving back. He laughs. I laugh. The woman standing next to me sees him and also laughs. Did you see me I ask. Yes he said you're wearing a grey teeshirt or something. I am. Tenuous connections, fleeting but lovely. I bet the whole train saw me he says, we have to stop doing this shit. I hope not I think smiling. 

Waiting for the bus

I'm impatient and it said 5 minutes before any bus was due. I started walking and a man started talking. Couldn't be bothered to wait for the bus either? no. It's been a long day and I don't feel like waiting.

How far you going? Not really sure. 

What do you do? Work for the Council. 

Doing what? Contracts management. 

Admin then? Largely, I agree. Boring then? Somewhat. 

What do you do in your spare time? I make pots, and... Blog a little. And take photos. Quite a bit of extras I think. Haven't thought about that for a while. 

What kind of pots? Big and odd. 

Do you sell them online or anything? Not sure anyone would want them. But I'm trying to persuade someone to give me an exhibition in Peckham. 

Anyway we've talked a lot about me. What about you? 

I used to work with young people but didn't like it as I got further into management and now am trying to set up as photographer.

So these interesting conversations about people trying to do some self employment type work. It makes me think about what I intended to do when I started out at the beginning. Some kind of artistic expression. 

Finally, he said, I've walked past my bus stop twice now. You must go back I said. Yes he said. We went our separate ways and I'm thinking of what I will do next.