I've Been Following You For Blocks

And I wish that you'd stop and tell me your name..

Back in Luton... and a few days I got jeered at by a group of children for wearing 'boys' shoes. It brought back painful memories from the last time I owned a pair of brogues. I was in primary school and it was the first day back after the summer holidays. I was feeling proud of my new uniform and especially my brand new, black patent brogues. I had chosen them myself from John Lewis and my Mum complimented them enormously. The children at school didn't. I probably cried about it, but in time I got over it.

Just over a week in Luton and I'm already itching to leave. I could indulge in 'Flâneur'-ing about the place. According to wikipedia it means 'a person who walks the city to experience it.' Whilst in Luton I don't think it would do me any good. I fear it would resign me to the life of a misanthropist, a fate which I am rightfully terrified of. In any event, a flying trip to east London has made me mournfully tired of Luton, leaving me with itchy bones and in a permanent state of entrapment. Never the less, i have been thinking a lot about the comming months and how I intend to spend my life as a graduate... a nice kick in the arse.

I wrote my name in your book..

Only God Knows Why.

So, this begins my new summer resolution to post more.

I have been living half in Luton, half in Norwich for the past few weeks. Although a part of me is deeply shamed to enjoy Luton as much as I do.. it's a nice change. I like the way Luton doesn't pretend to be anything other than what it is. Unlike Norwich, which conceals it's boring state behind a shroud of twee pleasantness.

Norwich has been great to me for the past three years...but a natural alteration in my perspective of it has occurred, so now I'm fairly certain that I'm done here.

These feelings have been fuelled, perhaps created by, the sudden, uncomfortable action of 'shit hitting the fan.' My Dr Zhivago discretion of a month ago has returned to plague my day. Not wanting to give too much away... I love Dr Zhivago but hate the way he comes off so well despite his constant infidelity. His doting wife comes off as such a pathetic and pitiful character, not without reason of course, she's painfully desperate. If you know the story of Dr Z.. then read between the lines, if you don't... you can guess. I know I'm being cruel and inviting terrible karma.. but there are few things I can't stand. One of those things is people who like to lie down in life. I would like to tell them to grow a spine and/or a pair of balls and stop simpering.

'Love Lost'

I don't normally direct my many readers to outside links because I don't want people to stray from my insightful musings and delightful deliberations... but this is too good. My tumblr has been littered with his pictures today...

The man in question: Paul Barbera. His series, 'Love Lost,' documents his travels and the ladies he meets. Based on the photos, I'm sure this is more than a meeting of friends because the photos are hot. Really hot.





The series makes me want to swan about in my underwear and t-shirts, occasionally look pensive and stretch every so often. I also love the houses these women live in. Jesus, it's all so achingly cool.

please tell us why...

you had to hide away for so long..

I have finished my dissertation now. For the past two weeks I've been chained to my desk... Getting to uni at about 9am and sitting in front of my computer, surrounded by books, until about 7pm meant that my brain was mush by the end of the day. Me and G had some very silly walks home from campus. Of course, it wasn't all fun and games.. the week wouldn't have been complete without some tears the night before the deadline. There was panic, there was crying, there were headaches. But it all got done.


Having a coffee with G whilst our dissertations were safely being bound in the library was such a nice feeling. There was celebrating and treats for the rest of the week...


All of it has been rather stressful. After a couple of heavy nights and days of wandering around town without any direction.... my brain is still scrambled. I can't focus on anything. I want to carry on running about the place in a frantic rush. So now it's the end of the week, and i still can't remember how to breathe slowly again. There's been butterflies under my skin for too long now, getting rid of them is proving tricky.
So, for the next few days, I intend to get a few things straightened out... maybe get my feet back on the ground. Just for a little while though.

If you were here...

winter wouldn't pass so slow...

It's pouring with rain, and after the clocks springing forward last night I thought it was time for summer and getting excited about doing things like eating strawberries on the lawn with a glass of rose, maybe even champagne, as this summer there will be a lot to celebrate. Walking home barefoot and staying up and outside under blankets until the early hours in a debauched state of merriment fuelled by cider and wine. Painting chairs and planting flowers. Talking about guys and going on picnics.


But, it's been raining all day, and I have some big library hours to put in over the comming days; luckily when it got to 7pm it was still light outside.. I was reminded that spring is never really that far away...

we want our film to be beautiful

not realistic..


I had a lovely little visit from my American friend Carey and her friend Jessica on Friday. It was a very nice day. We had a lot to drink. Carey brought me some American treats. The novelty of American things will probably never wear off, I love it all, especially her. She's the best.


Getting up to be at work at 9am after getting to bed at 2.30am completely wasted wasn't enjoyable. I had two thoughts in my head to keep my spirits up.

The first, was this photo:


A favourite of G's, the man in the photo has passed out in the middle of the road, not because of a medical condition, but because he is so hungover. It pleases me that it could be a whole lot worse.

The second; is the mental image of Nathan, a 'grade A' guy in every way possible, serving hot dogs to angry football fans whilst suffering from a hangover.
I love to think of him, contemplating not going in for his mystery work placement to arrive at the stadium and seeing an apron and cap sitting on a chair... knowing the worst was about to come to him. When I say 'grade A' in every way, we're talking the most intelligent and charming human being I know, and of course, one of the most attractive (all of the above are debatable.) He had to wear his apron and cap with a miserable face whilst serving hot dogs on a tiny stand. It's a good thing to focus on, knowing that things very rarely get that bad... and if they do, at least it makes an amusing anecdote to tell friends over half a dozen bottles of cider at the 'Edge.'



Having said all that, I thoroughly enjoy my hangover days. I like the way it gives you an excuse to mope around Sainsbury's whilst incoherently expressing yourself. Some of my best memories of this semester have involved painfully making tea with G, laughing at nothing and everything with hysterical joy of an evening. Then settling down to watch a period drama, (my personal favourite being 'Doctor Zhivago') whilst slathering my face in aqueus cream. Plus, there is no better feeling than going to bed that day. Nothing better.... apart from maybe getting into bed with Dr. Zhivago. 'heyyyyyo!'
I love everything about this televised drama, the scenery, the plot, the characters... Absolutely everything. Enjoy the slightly blurry screen grabs.

I talk out loud..

..like you're still around.



The first post in a long time. Partly because of my restlessness at the excitement of summer, coupled with the loom of my impending dissertation and passport renewal. In between the last of winter underneath warm bed sheets I have mostly been watching period dramas with G, making pizzas and 'mexican breakfasts.' Yesterday we even carted a small shelving device home from our local charity shop and painted it bright blue. It looks very nice.



Latitude festival has also been on my mind. I have managed to change the unfortunate aspect of the festival kicking off on the day I graduate into a desirably positive senario. It will involve a series of road trips, graduation gowns, a lot of wine and no small sandwiches in sight. Cool.


I promise to write something more enthralling once I am sure I can get excited about wearing my vans, oversized teeeeshirts, denim shorts, planting flowers in the garden, drinking jugs of cocktails in the afternoon whilst lying around on picnic blankets and leaving wet bikinis in the bathtub.... Hopefully I will find a worthwhile distraction until then...