Monday, 21 February 2011


dedicated to the lovely Kim

i woke up this morning to a world painted grey; small sprites had trudged through the night with black and white chalk, smudging the sky with damp fingertips and dusting the grass with ash. not for the first time this year, i wished for summer. i dragged myself out of bed and opened the curtains, allowing the pale light to wash across the bedroom, making me feel like i had been immersed in cold water. 
all morning i moped; i moped in the kitchen when i discovered i didn't have any hot chocolate, (one of the few good thing about winter) i moped in the bath because i didn't have any bubble bath and i moped in the bedroom when i realised i'd ran out of perfume. in a fit of determination i rummaged through boxes and bags and it was whilst i was in the midst of the perfume hunt that i stumbled across the wash bag i had taken with me around europe last summer. i'd emptied it out apart from a travel hairbrush, some hair grips and a small silver tin from Lush. i pulled the tin out and took the top off and that is when it happened. it was like somebody had ripped me out of the flat, out of my winter hibernation and plunged me back into last summer; the heat burning softly against my skin as it shimmered over the world, melting the roads and buildings as i danced though foreign streets in flip-flops. i rubbed the sweet jasmine moisturiser over my arms and the reverie was so strong even when i walked through the sleepy streets of Cinderford i could see Amsterdam before me, smell the flower market and see the glitter in the canals...then Florence with those beautiful rings...Berlin and cocktails. with each breath i was transported to a different city, every city me and two friends visited last summer presented itself before me, complete with the people we had seen and the conversations we had spoken. all those memories that had been kept safe within me were playing themselves once again, and like discovering a film that you once loved but lost, i watched with nostalgic happiness.

city of magic and masks. 

Sunday, 13 February 2011

i never thought the day would come when i would be excited over a cooker. literally, never. peep-toe heels? yes. scarves and headbands with that cute flower print? of course. my new fudge coloured nail polish? obvilously. but a cooker? hmmm, i new i felt a bit funny when i woke up this morning. i mean, its not even some amazing wonder cooker that can fly or something, its just a plain old white cooker. (well, i actually love the fact that it's old because its got that whole cute grannyish thing going on)
but yeah, so there i am; rushing around the parents house grabing random coats and bags (attempting to find mine) and running to the car whilst shouting to my mother to hurry up and that she doesn't really need to put on shoes to drive. after all this i am standing in a strange womans flat, after meeting a man on the side of the road (he said he'd meet us there, probably to check that we wasn't weird people) and staring at a cooker with genuine awe. there, right in front of me, close enough to touch (but i didn't touch it, i think the woman might have thought i was rather odd if i did) was a cooker, in full working order, with no horible icky patches, we didn't have to travel the earth to get it and she wasn't asking the earth for it either. i could not believe my luck. i practically threw the money at her and gave my dads word he would collect it tomorow.
so, after what has felt like years of searching the paper, ringing up and being told it's already been sold, this dahling of a cooker jumped into my arms and with a smile said 'please take me home?" and i smiled back and said "you are welcome to stay as long as you like."

Saturday, 12 February 2011

i think sometimes, if i let myself, i can feel very very small. but i don't mean the kind of small that other people make you feel, i mean the kind that only you can see. its like i'm walking along, humming a sweet kind of tune that i heard someday on the radio or maybe in a friends car, when something happens. or maybe it had been happening and i only just realised, so maybe it just felt like it had sprung itself onto me. but anyway, its as if the grass begins growing, taller and taller all around me and at first i'm scared, not just of the grass but because everything else is getting bigger too; the houses becoming giant's castles, stretching up up up so their rooftops are obscured by the clouds. and the lamp posts spike the sky, stirring the heavens and making raindrops the size of boats fall all around, plunging the world into an inky mess. but then my fear changes slightly; instead i start to become more and more frustrated, because everything carries on; everybody still talks in the same voice, completely unaware that their words are booming around me, making the ground shake and me almost topple, they still stomp ahead, oblivious to me stumbling along after them in a desperate attempt to keep up and dodge the flood falling from the vast blue thing above me. and what makes it laughable is that they keep turning their heads and looking at me like, 'whats the problem? it's only a bit of rain' and then i finally bubble over and i'm angry, really, really down to my core, angry. i scream and shout and kick at the stupid blades of grass that have now grown bigger than me, i march around with my eyes squeezed shut whilst fierce tears trace across my creased face. 
and then suddenly, those words echo once again in my ears:
its only a bit of rain
then, just like that, the grass starts shrinking, or, rather, i simply start to grow. until the rain is just that, tiny splashes of water that make me smile and hum that sweet song again. as soon as i remind myself that i don't have to clamber over grass, its easy to dance through the rain.