Morning terrors
Blood curdling screams from next door made my hair stand on end. Thoughts of some terrible tragedy befalling family members went through my head. Then shouting at the dog. Dog came out into the garden making weird snuffling noises. Somehow he had killed a fox and was carrying it round.
Later they have cleared away the evidence but the dog is excitable barking at phantoms.
Monday, 25 July 2011
What to do on the holidays (time permitting)
Its a week, these are on the to do list:
Its a week, these are on the to do list:
- remove carpet from spare room (methodology - cutting away sections from to get it from under the furniture)
- re-arrange spare room - setting up drawing table, planchests and sofabed
- remove stair and hall carpet
- sand woodwork in hall (bannisters, balastrades, skirting boards, parts of stairs that require painting)
- paint above mentioned woodwork (paint is already purchased)
- finish jacket that is half made (front facings, closures, pockets)
- finish waterproof coat that is a third made (second sleeve, pockets, collar, front facings, lining)
- go to the movies with Pops to watch The Tree of Life
- find a builder to build me a front wall, and possibly same one or a different one to paint the windows and ledges on the outside of hte house, put a downpipe from the guttering on one corner of the house
Tuesday, 19 July 2011
Here's Looking At You
A morning, like any morning. Get up, get dressed, open the kitchen door, eat cereal walking around the garden, clean glasses with washing up liquid, put on coat, leave the house. Bus journey, 10 minutes to tube station. Bus is crowded with people going to work and parents taking kids to pre-school, students going to college. Get off the bus and walk, with the crowd of people to the tube, stopping to wait for the lights to change crammed onto the edge of the pavement, then the first island and finally the last island. Rushing collectively to the entrance, down the steps, along the tunnel, through the gates, onto the escalator, more tunnels, down the steps onto the platform. Crowded, lots of people waiting for the Victoria line. Stand slightly over half way along, as usual, just past the train indicator. Reread the meerkat advert again. Get on the train. Standing room only. Open my book. Middle aged man opposite smiles at me. I look away. Highbury and Islington, getting off the train, he looks me in the eye and scrapes an imaginary something from his chin. This was an indication I realise. I had something on my chin. I reach up and scratch. He indicates a bit more. That's better, he says. I get off, cross the platform to change lines. Mortified. I had come so far, with an Alpen oatflake stuck to my chin. Fear I'm turning into one of those sad cases with holes in their jumpers and egg stains on their shirt fronts. Must get a mirror in the hall.
A morning, like any morning. Get up, get dressed, open the kitchen door, eat cereal walking around the garden, clean glasses with washing up liquid, put on coat, leave the house. Bus journey, 10 minutes to tube station. Bus is crowded with people going to work and parents taking kids to pre-school, students going to college. Get off the bus and walk, with the crowd of people to the tube, stopping to wait for the lights to change crammed onto the edge of the pavement, then the first island and finally the last island. Rushing collectively to the entrance, down the steps, along the tunnel, through the gates, onto the escalator, more tunnels, down the steps onto the platform. Crowded, lots of people waiting for the Victoria line. Stand slightly over half way along, as usual, just past the train indicator. Reread the meerkat advert again. Get on the train. Standing room only. Open my book. Middle aged man opposite smiles at me. I look away. Highbury and Islington, getting off the train, he looks me in the eye and scrapes an imaginary something from his chin. This was an indication I realise. I had something on my chin. I reach up and scratch. He indicates a bit more. That's better, he says. I get off, cross the platform to change lines. Mortified. I had come so far, with an Alpen oatflake stuck to my chin. Fear I'm turning into one of those sad cases with holes in their jumpers and egg stains on their shirt fronts. Must get a mirror in the hall.
Friday, 8 July 2011
Tuesday, 28 June 2011
All the embarrassing things that have ever happened to me
Well maybe not quite all, but certainly a pertinent few:
Well maybe not quite all, but certainly a pertinent few:
- Donning my brand new double buckled patent faux snakeskin pointy toed boots, I left the house feeling hot to trot. coming down the escalator at Manor House station, toe got stuck at the bottom and I fell landing face down splayed out in the hall at the bottom wishing the earth to swallow me up while fellow passengers walked around me.
- Walked down the main street from our holiday cottage in Padstow towards the beach with my long skirt tucked into my knickers. It was a hot day with no breeze and clearly couldn't tell. When I was almost there an old lady stopped me and let me know.
- Shaking hands to greet a man who came for a meeting at work I was shocked at their glacial temperature, almost involuntarily I said, "oh, cold hands", "but warm heart," was his retort. When I came back from the meeting I was greeted by a chorus of Ooo matron and blushed bright red realising how our initial exchange clearly sounded.
Saturday, 25 June 2011
Cinders Won't Be Going to the Ball
The promise of more tickets to the Olympics gave the glimmer of hope that perhaps still there was a chance to be there. So before work yesteday logged onto the site to find something. Ridiculously, they hadn't removed all the sold out events, so you had to trawl through all the pages of no availability to find where the gaps were. No athletics. No swimming. No gymastics. No cycling. No table tennis. No basketball. No fencing. No anything that I really wanted to watch. Thought about things that I wouldn't mind to go and see just to be in the stadiums. Boxing (don't even really agree with this as a sport), but you would have to pay £75, or £95 per ticket and I didn't really want to go alone, so would have to buy 2. And it was at the Excel Centre. Not really in the Olympic park, not a new building, not a sport I really want to watch, why would I want to spend that kind of dough? Weight lifting? Not really. Wrestling? No. Did manage to get a set of tickets at Wembley for my sis and her family to watch football, but since she didn't want to pay top dollar either it had to be women's football (apologies for being disparaging about women's football).
And they said that in this round you were actually buying tickets not being in a lottery - it was first come first served. Suprised then, that at the end of the payment it said we will let you know in a weeks time if your application has been successful.
It really has been a mega shambles and makes me want to boycott the whole event. The news yesterday said only 7% of London families had any tickets. No suprise then that I don't know a single person who has been successful in securing tickets. I only know of people through other people who have been lucky. Also that for some of the most popular events only 55% of the tickets were even available. They should have given less to corporate sponsorship and sold them to the public since the public is clearly keen to attend.
So now, at the end of the ticket thing, Londoners will have to cope with the huge influx of tourists, transport crush, hoopla and in your face advertising and not be involved at all. Perhaps we should leave the country during that time instead and take our money to somewhere its wanted - you can watch the olympics on tv from almost anywhere afterall.
The promise of more tickets to the Olympics gave the glimmer of hope that perhaps still there was a chance to be there. So before work yesteday logged onto the site to find something. Ridiculously, they hadn't removed all the sold out events, so you had to trawl through all the pages of no availability to find where the gaps were. No athletics. No swimming. No gymastics. No cycling. No table tennis. No basketball. No fencing. No anything that I really wanted to watch. Thought about things that I wouldn't mind to go and see just to be in the stadiums. Boxing (don't even really agree with this as a sport), but you would have to pay £75, or £95 per ticket and I didn't really want to go alone, so would have to buy 2. And it was at the Excel Centre. Not really in the Olympic park, not a new building, not a sport I really want to watch, why would I want to spend that kind of dough? Weight lifting? Not really. Wrestling? No. Did manage to get a set of tickets at Wembley for my sis and her family to watch football, but since she didn't want to pay top dollar either it had to be women's football (apologies for being disparaging about women's football).
And they said that in this round you were actually buying tickets not being in a lottery - it was first come first served. Suprised then, that at the end of the payment it said we will let you know in a weeks time if your application has been successful.
It really has been a mega shambles and makes me want to boycott the whole event. The news yesterday said only 7% of London families had any tickets. No suprise then that I don't know a single person who has been successful in securing tickets. I only know of people through other people who have been lucky. Also that for some of the most popular events only 55% of the tickets were even available. They should have given less to corporate sponsorship and sold them to the public since the public is clearly keen to attend.
So now, at the end of the ticket thing, Londoners will have to cope with the huge influx of tourists, transport crush, hoopla and in your face advertising and not be involved at all. Perhaps we should leave the country during that time instead and take our money to somewhere its wanted - you can watch the olympics on tv from almost anywhere afterall.
Thursday, 16 June 2011
Exercising in the park
A Bassett hound stands wagging his tail while watching a weird hippy man do yoga on a brown rug on the path. Strange jerky warm up exercises that the dog seems to be comtemplating joining in with until his owner encourages him to come away and join the Yorkshire terrier. The yorkie is rolling on the grass with his legs in the air. In the distance hippy man is rolling, while tucked into a ball, from one side to the other and then moves into upward and downward dog, followed by a shoulder stand. The dogs have left the vicinity. Weird hippy man is just getting sideways glances from passing office workers.
A Bassett hound stands wagging his tail while watching a weird hippy man do yoga on a brown rug on the path. Strange jerky warm up exercises that the dog seems to be comtemplating joining in with until his owner encourages him to come away and join the Yorkshire terrier. The yorkie is rolling on the grass with his legs in the air. In the distance hippy man is rolling, while tucked into a ball, from one side to the other and then moves into upward and downward dog, followed by a shoulder stand. The dogs have left the vicinity. Weird hippy man is just getting sideways glances from passing office workers.
Friday, 10 June 2011
Lost Poster Cambridge
Peaceful and genteel. Full of brainy students and bicycles. Someone had posted lost posters on the lamp posts of my route to the Sainsbury Laboratory's Artist Launch (new building with artist's work integral to the design). Three hundred pound reward (in my neighbourhood a reward is seldom offered, and never more than £100). On closer inspection the lost item was neither a beloved cat or dog but a beloved fountain pen. £300 reward for a pen! Must have been expensive with great sentimental value.
Peaceful and genteel. Full of brainy students and bicycles. Someone had posted lost posters on the lamp posts of my route to the Sainsbury Laboratory's Artist Launch (new building with artist's work integral to the design). Three hundred pound reward (in my neighbourhood a reward is seldom offered, and never more than £100). On closer inspection the lost item was neither a beloved cat or dog but a beloved fountain pen. £300 reward for a pen! Must have been expensive with great sentimental value.
Thursday, 9 June 2011
Kings Cross is a filthy animal
Sitting in the window of Starbucks on the button corner of Pentonville Road. The streets are not littered as they once were but Kings Cross struggles to overcome it's grubby reputation. Over the road the once lovely lighthouse building is falling down. The lighthouse itself has lost some balustrades and is in danger of loosing it's roof, but it has gained some grafitti. The rest of the building has fallen into derelict disrepair - dirt clinging to intricate windows of the upper stories. Buddleia, beloved of butterflies, sprouting out of the fencing. On the second floor two pairs of pigeons copulate on the window sills. Ground floor has been neglected for many years and now the building has been declared unsafe. A succession of small independent traders, including Mole Jazz, resided in the dirt afflicted premises. The massive regeneration hasn't quite reached this block yet. No doubt it will be torn down and replaced by something in steel and glass despite the current building's underlying charm.
Sitting in the window of Starbucks on the button corner of Pentonville Road. The streets are not littered as they once were but Kings Cross struggles to overcome it's grubby reputation. Over the road the once lovely lighthouse building is falling down. The lighthouse itself has lost some balustrades and is in danger of loosing it's roof, but it has gained some grafitti. The rest of the building has fallen into derelict disrepair - dirt clinging to intricate windows of the upper stories. Buddleia, beloved of butterflies, sprouting out of the fencing. On the second floor two pairs of pigeons copulate on the window sills. Ground floor has been neglected for many years and now the building has been declared unsafe. A succession of small independent traders, including Mole Jazz, resided in the dirt afflicted premises. The massive regeneration hasn't quite reached this block yet. No doubt it will be torn down and replaced by something in steel and glass despite the current building's underlying charm.
Thursday, 2 June 2011
Tickets/No Tickets/Tickets/No Tickets
So, remember when they announced the Olympics were going to be in London? (the day before 7/7 which overshadowed the moment of euphoria the previous day). The moment it was announced I wanted tickets. As a family we always watch the Olympics. To have them in our home town, too good an opportunity to miss. Other people were unhappy we got the Olympics because of the expense. We started paying for the games in our Council tax. People complained. The expense, they don't like sports anyhow. I secretly still wanted to get tickets. The building works began. Upgrades to the public transport network. Commuter hell. People complained.
Anyway, the tickets went on sale, sorry, into a lottery. I applied for two tickets to three events. I picked evening events (don't know what will be happening at work in a year's time), men's 100m final, men's individual gymnastics, 200m freestyle women's swimming. Someone told me you have no chance with great glee. Have to be in it to win it, I thought. Pops and sis also applied for tickets - daytime, not main finals events (one senior, two adults and two children). Friends applied for a variety of events, for a whole heap of reasons.
Nobody I know has won any tickets. My disappointment is vast. How can nobody I know get anything and one person get £11,000 worth of tickets? Since we are paying for it, we should get a ticket. Too many tickets given to corporations for schmoozing their clients. Its not fair. I feel aggrieved.
So, remember when they announced the Olympics were going to be in London? (the day before 7/7 which overshadowed the moment of euphoria the previous day). The moment it was announced I wanted tickets. As a family we always watch the Olympics. To have them in our home town, too good an opportunity to miss. Other people were unhappy we got the Olympics because of the expense. We started paying for the games in our Council tax. People complained. The expense, they don't like sports anyhow. I secretly still wanted to get tickets. The building works began. Upgrades to the public transport network. Commuter hell. People complained.
Anyway, the tickets went on sale, sorry, into a lottery. I applied for two tickets to three events. I picked evening events (don't know what will be happening at work in a year's time), men's 100m final, men's individual gymnastics, 200m freestyle women's swimming. Someone told me you have no chance with great glee. Have to be in it to win it, I thought. Pops and sis also applied for tickets - daytime, not main finals events (one senior, two adults and two children). Friends applied for a variety of events, for a whole heap of reasons.
Nobody I know has won any tickets. My disappointment is vast. How can nobody I know get anything and one person get £11,000 worth of tickets? Since we are paying for it, we should get a ticket. Too many tickets given to corporations for schmoozing their clients. Its not fair. I feel aggrieved.
Tuesday, 24 May 2011
Redeye
Is the Redeye very late or very early? I'm on a very late train. It's been a very long journey. Two hours from the destination still and it's 10pm already. The detritus of passengers who have gotten off already is mingled with that of those of us left aboard. We are a puffy eyed, crumpled, weary lot. I would really like to get off - my skin us dry and hot, my mouth fuzzy. I've been travelling for five hours so far - by the time I get there I could have flown across the Atlantic and watched three films. The man with the trolley is very nice but I don't want to put anything e-numbery and sugary in my mouth.
Is the Redeye very late or very early? I'm on a very late train. It's been a very long journey. Two hours from the destination still and it's 10pm already. The detritus of passengers who have gotten off already is mingled with that of those of us left aboard. We are a puffy eyed, crumpled, weary lot. I would really like to get off - my skin us dry and hot, my mouth fuzzy. I've been travelling for five hours so far - by the time I get there I could have flown across the Atlantic and watched three films. The man with the trolley is very nice but I don't want to put anything e-numbery and sugary in my mouth.
Strong Winds
Blustery winds of 70-80mph whipped around Dundee yesterday. Trees fell over. The bridge over the silvery silvery Tay was shut. Leaves litter the streets. And branches. Five cars were crushed by a fallen tree near the Law. Polytunnels crushed out of shape, their plastic torn off. It's always dramatic, Scottish weather!
Blustery winds of 70-80mph whipped around Dundee yesterday. Trees fell over. The bridge over the silvery silvery Tay was shut. Leaves litter the streets. And branches. Five cars were crushed by a fallen tree near the Law. Polytunnels crushed out of shape, their plastic torn off. It's always dramatic, Scottish weather!
Saturday, 21 May 2011
Journey
The train rushes past the landscape of the east coast - farmland, flat - then a chalk horse on a hill after York. Wooded patches of trees growing upwards competing with each other. Horses and foals, cows and calves, sheep and lambs - physical springtime. A tumbledown farmhouse in the middle of nowhere with out-buildings that would make ideal studios. I know we're not supposed to as Londoners but sometimes I long for a less urban-pace of life. And sometimes I think it might be a hankering for an isolated existence which leaves me free to do exactly as I choose.
The train rushes past the landscape of the east coast - farmland, flat - then a chalk horse on a hill after York. Wooded patches of trees growing upwards competing with each other. Horses and foals, cows and calves, sheep and lambs - physical springtime. A tumbledown farmhouse in the middle of nowhere with out-buildings that would make ideal studios. I know we're not supposed to as Londoners but sometimes I long for a less urban-pace of life. And sometimes I think it might be a hankering for an isolated existence which leaves me free to do exactly as I choose.
Tuesday, 17 May 2011
Random 41 year old thoughts
So it was my birthday last friday. I was 39 and 24 months old. Its not a significant number of years, so I celebrated in a low-key manner, which was nice. If I can't stand the numbers I don't need to draw attention to them I figure.
On the way to the local shop I saw a man in the key cutting shop. He was wearing a toupe. It was auburn against his grey and dark brown natural hair. The toupe must have been very old - it was balding from too much combing of the parting. Bald man in a bald wig. Time for an upgrade.
Sitting on the bus on the way home, a man behind me is talking on the phone. Hello! This is Rambo, can I speak to Moses? I'm getting clashes between American action heros with guns and pumped muscles and Charlton Heston as Moses parting the red sea.
Behind him some 14 year old school boys are talking about stuff they used to do when they were 11. Back in my day we didn't used to cheek the teacher so much. Back in their day - these are their days. Old before their time.
So it was my birthday last friday. I was 39 and 24 months old. Its not a significant number of years, so I celebrated in a low-key manner, which was nice. If I can't stand the numbers I don't need to draw attention to them I figure.
On the way to the local shop I saw a man in the key cutting shop. He was wearing a toupe. It was auburn against his grey and dark brown natural hair. The toupe must have been very old - it was balding from too much combing of the parting. Bald man in a bald wig. Time for an upgrade.
Sitting on the bus on the way home, a man behind me is talking on the phone. Hello! This is Rambo, can I speak to Moses? I'm getting clashes between American action heros with guns and pumped muscles and Charlton Heston as Moses parting the red sea.
Behind him some 14 year old school boys are talking about stuff they used to do when they were 11. Back in my day we didn't used to cheek the teacher so much. Back in their day - these are their days. Old before their time.
Wednesday, 11 May 2011
Post-Coital Journeys to Work
Waiting for the train she stands only as tall as his shoulder. She looks up into his face. He is talking to her. On the train they sit together, in the way that only couples do - bodies touching. He is spread out, she is tucked into him. They are sharing one set of headphones. He is playing tunes for her, do you know this?, he mime-sings along, what about this? Of course I know that, she mock-scolds. He grins. She looks up into his beaming face smiling through long eyelashes. The morning after the night before.
Waiting for the train she stands only as tall as his shoulder. She looks up into his face. He is talking to her. On the train they sit together, in the way that only couples do - bodies touching. He is spread out, she is tucked into him. They are sharing one set of headphones. He is playing tunes for her, do you know this?, he mime-sings along, what about this? Of course I know that, she mock-scolds. He grins. She looks up into his beaming face smiling through long eyelashes. The morning after the night before.
Sunday, 1 May 2011
Drunk
The bus lurches round a corner as it weaves it's way east away from the main road. It shakes life into a semi-comatose drunk man who shouts, "leme awwt", stands up, creeps his way to the stairs aided by the handrail carry a large carton of juice and a full bottle of rum. He gets to the top of the stairs as the bus pulls away from the bus stop. His tenuous grip (one little finger) doesn't hold and he falls face first down flinging the rum onto the top deck where it smashes filling the floor with sweet smelling alchol. "Leme awwt. Open the fucking doors". A child upstairs starts to cry, frightened by the commotion. The doors open, "I've left something upstairs," he's creeping back up. It smashed someone tells him. The bus pulls off again. "Open the doors leme off this fucking bus". And finally he is.
The bus lurches round a corner as it weaves it's way east away from the main road. It shakes life into a semi-comatose drunk man who shouts, "leme awwt", stands up, creeps his way to the stairs aided by the handrail carry a large carton of juice and a full bottle of rum. He gets to the top of the stairs as the bus pulls away from the bus stop. His tenuous grip (one little finger) doesn't hold and he falls face first down flinging the rum onto the top deck where it smashes filling the floor with sweet smelling alchol. "Leme awwt. Open the fucking doors". A child upstairs starts to cry, frightened by the commotion. The doors open, "I've left something upstairs," he's creeping back up. It smashed someone tells him. The bus pulls off again. "Open the doors leme off this fucking bus". And finally he is.
Saturday, 30 April 2011
Not the Royal Wedding
Fab a bank holiday - excuse for a party, previous week's summer weather made a bbq seem like a good idea. Checking the forecast all week I was fearing thunder and rain. However it turned out nice. Popped to the supermarket at 9.00am (full of elders - I have never been to the supermarket at that time before), cleaned house, preped the food. Didn't even turn the tv on at all, all day. People came at 2ish with news of the cars, the dress, the uniforms, the parents of the bride and groom, the Queen, the guests, the cheering, the music, the kiss, the ring having difficulty being put on, the trees in Westminster Abbey... So despite not watching it or listening to it I feel I know everything I need to know.
Then we started the coals and got the barbie started.
Fab a bank holiday - excuse for a party, previous week's summer weather made a bbq seem like a good idea. Checking the forecast all week I was fearing thunder and rain. However it turned out nice. Popped to the supermarket at 9.00am (full of elders - I have never been to the supermarket at that time before), cleaned house, preped the food. Didn't even turn the tv on at all, all day. People came at 2ish with news of the cars, the dress, the uniforms, the parents of the bride and groom, the Queen, the guests, the cheering, the music, the kiss, the ring having difficulty being put on, the trees in Westminster Abbey... So despite not watching it or listening to it I feel I know everything I need to know.
Then we started the coals and got the barbie started.
Monday, 25 April 2011
7 facts
There was a time some years ago when the blogging community was a more holistic type of virtual place - more linkage, more joint activities, posting that linked to other bloggers. Not for some time has anyone sent me an activity to be part of. Until now. Deb of Baratin-Deboradant has sent me a versatile blogger award for which I have to thank the giver, give 7 random facts about myself and send it on to other bloggers. I don't know if anyone in my bloglist would be interested in this kind of thing anymore so I'm a bit stumped as to who to send it to. (If you would like it - let me know). So, thank you for the award Debs and here follows 7 random facts:
There was a time some years ago when the blogging community was a more holistic type of virtual place - more linkage, more joint activities, posting that linked to other bloggers. Not for some time has anyone sent me an activity to be part of. Until now. Deb of Baratin-Deboradant has sent me a versatile blogger award for which I have to thank the giver, give 7 random facts about myself and send it on to other bloggers. I don't know if anyone in my bloglist would be interested in this kind of thing anymore so I'm a bit stumped as to who to send it to. (If you would like it - let me know). So, thank you for the award Debs and here follows 7 random facts:
- I was trained in three dimensional design, a form of artistic design. I specialised in metals and made a lot of sculptural pieces from altered metal. During this time I tried ceramics and decided I hated it. Didn't like the dirty hands, or the possibilities for things to go wrong at many times during the process. I struggled with the whole function thing and didn't get on with it very much. So intersting that now I have been studying ceramics for 5 years at evening classes (oh how my art school chums laugh...)
- I failed my maths O level twice, and only managed to pass it on the third attempt. No idea why so much difficulty. Suprising now that a lot of my job is about numbers. Hail the calculator.
- I can touch-type. I taught myself when I was at university. I still think it is the main employability skill I left there with. My whole career centred on it.
- I am only a quarter English - another quarter is Scot, the final half is American. I don't feel like an american - when I am there the people are somewhat alien to me. I also don't feel particularly English and I won't be considered Scottish by the Scottish (too obviously an English accent). My closest affiliation is London.
- I'm a bit sick of the Royal Wedding. I have been rather non-plussed by the royals since we waited for the Queen during the silver Jubilee. We spent all afternoon sitting on the side of Roseberry Avenue outside Sadler's Wells, waving flags and singing why are we waiting (some forward youngster taught us). When her car drove past (at a very swift pace) I didn't recognise her because instead of a crown she was wearing a green and white coat and hat number.
- I have played the recorder (yes, I know, its not like a real instrument but I played it for a number of years) at the Albert Hall (School's proms), and the Queen Elizabeth Hall. These are the closest I have ever come to being on the stage. The whole idea of the stage now terrifies me.
- I have a birthmark on my earlobe. Kids at school used to think it was disgusting - clearly something was terribly diseased, in their minds. It didn't help that my mother always kept my hair very short. Nowadays nobody even notices it.
Easter Monday
Today I have mostly been...
Watching biblical epic films on TV. First it was Charlton Heston as Moses with the Egyptians against the Iraelites. I remember it from seeing it on TV in the 70s on those epic Sundays that never seemed to end, parents spent what seemed like hours behind the open pages of Sunday broadsheets and were extremely boring (only you could never say so because of Dad's decree that only the boring get bored). And then the epic films on the little orange TV that lasted for hours, literally. I was expectantly waiting for the red sea to open so that Moses and the people could get away from the Egyptian chariots. Let it be written, let it be done. And so it was. Shortly after another one started with Jesus and the romans. Haven't been able to sit still during this one quite so much (did skip some sizable chunks of the first one), so I have also been cooking and sewing.
I sat down and watched a bit more of King of Kings, while eating burnt toast, plagued as it is with some terrible wigs, Jesus almost looks like an addict - with very wide-open piercing eyes and lanky hair.
Today I have mostly been...
Watching biblical epic films on TV. First it was Charlton Heston as Moses with the Egyptians against the Iraelites. I remember it from seeing it on TV in the 70s on those epic Sundays that never seemed to end, parents spent what seemed like hours behind the open pages of Sunday broadsheets and were extremely boring (only you could never say so because of Dad's decree that only the boring get bored). And then the epic films on the little orange TV that lasted for hours, literally. I was expectantly waiting for the red sea to open so that Moses and the people could get away from the Egyptian chariots. Let it be written, let it be done. And so it was. Shortly after another one started with Jesus and the romans. Haven't been able to sit still during this one quite so much (did skip some sizable chunks of the first one), so I have also been cooking and sewing.
I sat down and watched a bit more of King of Kings, while eating burnt toast, plagued as it is with some terrible wigs, Jesus almost looks like an addict - with very wide-open piercing eyes and lanky hair.
Saturday, 23 April 2011
Electric Storm
I'm sitting in the garden watching the thick storm clouds gather, rumbling with thunder. An occasional fork of lightning crackles out of the sky. The temperature has cooled but not below body heat. Wind has picked up and the birds are a bit jumpy. Heavy with the expectation of rain. The air yellowing. I hope it's one of those fat raindrop storms, sudden heavy deluge that will clean the air. I felt one drop. I think it's coming.
I'm sitting in the garden watching the thick storm clouds gather, rumbling with thunder. An occasional fork of lightning crackles out of the sky. The temperature has cooled but not below body heat. Wind has picked up and the birds are a bit jumpy. Heavy with the expectation of rain. The air yellowing. I hope it's one of those fat raindrop storms, sudden heavy deluge that will clean the air. I felt one drop. I think it's coming.
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