mami

mami, comes to fetch us from the beach. lazy-bones, we slowly pull away from the comfort of towels, sand and sunshine. golden girls, the three of us walk up to the market showing off our lovely tans. mami races ahead, chasing life, grabbing with both hands. she hasn't got enough eyes, she says.

la jeunesse

bright eyed, back from their camping trip, smouldering, childish, in love, passionate, surly, full of energy. youth, not at all wasted on the young.

things that have had me concerned, upset or puzzled this week

in no particular order

• a dress
• a memory
• a lack of communication
• a social event
• a possible future lack
• a cyclist
• a sense of direction
• a technical contraption
• an unexpected interview offer
• a slow, but steady, passage of time
• a philosophical position
• a painting and a poem

options

• stay
• go back
• move forward
• lateral and diagonal movements where available

pan con manteca y miel

grey skies. learning how to control the aperture and exposure. greater aperture equals smaller amounts of light equals longer exposure equals i don't know what. logical brain should really find no trouble with this, but it's a bread and butter day, and bread and butter things are being done. no time for flashy displays of logical understanding. just lazy sunday spreads.

in paris with you

In Paris With You, Howard Hodgkin.

Don't talk to me of love. I've had an earful
And I get tearful when I've downed a drink or two.
I'm one of your talking wounded.
I'm a hostage. I'm maroonded.
But I'm in Paris with you.

In Paris With You, James Fenton.

i walked into the room and it swallowed me whole, like a lifetime. and i was wandering in the colours and the shapes for a little while. stopping by ocassionally. to let my mind slip away. eyes wide open. heart beating fast. stomach full with memories of something.

still

walking inside the echo of my footstps, reflected on the river like another seagull, floating up and away, to the sea.

SMS Post

Changes afoot at the wheatsheaf...

dating

pre-dating, carbon-dating, online-dating, blind-dating, speed-dating.

car rental flashbacks

the last time i drove back from heathrow, i delivered my husband to a new lover. i didn't know it then. back from a journey, full of options, and that's the road we both ended up taking.

----

i got a fine with my rented car. i guess that's the thing i do. i get a car, i get a fine. fine. fine, i don't care. i'll spend 50, 100, 200 pounds, what's it to me. i got the money. and i have nothing to worry about. no children to look after, no mouths to feed, no future to worry about. fine away, fine me again, i don't give a fuck.

----

when i got back to the car park, we had left the side door open. wide open. and someone had gone in and tidied the A-Z into the glove compartment.

----

drive back in the car, back from richmond park, back from the west, radio on, rev the engine. tussle your hair. go ahead and smile. smile all you like, it's just a stupid car.

----

and there's no point arguing with the rental people. they told you one day, they charge you two days. and you get angry for nothing, because it's just a thing that happens and it's so little in comparison to all the big shit that's going down that frankly the best line is to walk away, walk away, walk away....

----

mum's gone, leaving behind a trail of flowers and tidiness. i'll look after all of it, and maybe it will look after me back.

gusts of wind

my, oh my. i can't cope with the heat anymore. it makes me hungry for my pillow. it makes me dreamy and slows everything down. gusts of wind come in from the south or the west or the north or the east, i don't care. they shake the leaves of stockwell trees gently, momentarily. skin breathes in. breathes out. renovation in the air for just a second. air stands still again. clouds move unbearably slowly, losing the race against the arriving planes. a couple of birds, high up in the sky, miles away, enjoy the thermals, zig-zaging around in a strange dance. love birds, no doubt. it must be cool up there. i want to go with them, wherever their final destination may be.

granma

was found to have slept in her husbands old t-shirts and to have a stash of a million never-cooked recipes in a hidden drawer. sweet. once found, these flaws were swiftly rectified.

strategic thinking

my head is being squeezed by a careless boy perilously close to breaking the egg he's carrying ever so speedily to the end of the line.

my head cannot therefore commit to thinking, analysing, absorbing, interpreting. which is its usual job.

my head is in no way related to other parts of my body, which are always happy to conjecture, question, puzzle, tickle, and otherwise mayhem their way into trouble. headache or no headeache.

this disconnect has caused joy and horror in equal proportions throughout my head and body's unholy alliance.

long may it continue...

homecoming

garden shears and smooth fm full blast!

straight on all the way from herne bay to peckham to vauxhall

a day of driving cars and driving people mad. obsess my way around canterbury cathedral. only god knows why (and maybe the dancer or the one who is in love, if they think hard). dipping toes in the cold waters of dover, watched by the still silent white cliffs. mess around in deal, unimpressed with puny castle. cold beer in herne bay. purple blood over the whitstable horizon and plenty of oyster-like behaviour. peppered with jokes only we can laugh at. and an incredibly subtle bitterness hanging over all of it, like the muddy mist we could see, far far away at sea.

no, i didn't

i didn't think about him, and i definitely didn't wonder where he was or who he was with or what he was up to, and i certainly wasn't trying to imagine how he felt or what it was like, because as we all know, i don't think or wonder or imagine, or "try" for that matter. cos i don't do that, and i didn't do that, and i never will. right? i'm just a blog, that's all...

greenwich

look beyond the green hill, london sitting there. london beautiful. london mine.

caleidoscope

hong kong, swimming pool, babies, nantes, train journey, world cup, bicycle wheels on the wall, text messaging, art gallery, july, hot, fever, illness, excitement, thailand, discarded condom, used towel, work, fun, stomachache, perfume, footballers, sweat, smooth skin, beer, taxi, take away, wild horses, funky music, tick-tock, shivering in the square, red stripe, see u later, tatoos, friends, east, south, shoulder ache, broken ribs, noodles, cowboy boots, cuban heel, final whistle, shared stories, bus journeys, white van, vacuum cleaner...nap.

illness

i was out in hoxton square, again, but this time, instead of a nice surprise i got a terrible disease. let me moan unrestrictedly on my blog. let me wallow in my poxy little cold. let me complain ad infinitum about how much my throat hurts. let me indulge, i can afford it.
ocean child, hope you get better soon...

beware what you ask for

and so there i was, telling my friend that i really needed something to happen. that the ants where getting me all itchy. that i felt ready for something. and then, in hoxton square, something walked right into us.

variation

the anticipation of a drum's tightening skin waiting for the next beat, hoping to decipher the full rhythm.

antsy

fizzle, crackle and pop. want a change of air. jump out of the cage. set sail towards unconquered land.

lightning doesn't strike twice

and neither does my cooking. following earlier tortilla success, optimistically cook meat past it's sell-by-date. fill my kitchen with the smell of things gone foul. drop it all in the bin. scarper for alternative filling for my forlorn aubergines. overcook the rice. forget the herbs. it will all be a dry mess in the end.

wasting time in the sun, part II

i've got myself another ridiculous tan-line.
i've pondered the advantages and disadvantages of removing dead snails from the garden. and acted on my conclusions.
i've cooked a tortilla, made a salad, prepared some coffee.
i've listened to music and washed my towels.
i've read about the collapse of ancient civilisations. thought about internal organ failure. gained a few pounds. shed a few tears.
gone inside to avoid getting sunstroke.

SMS Post

the sky is so blue i could cry...

hover flies are weird

and that's the last i will say on the subject.

the occupational health doctor

mhm, so your work is the same. scribble.
mhm, so your desk is the same. scribble.
mhm, so everything's the same. scribble.
now tell me, what are these "private issues" down on the file?
...
i see. well. nothing major's damaged. nothing major's broken.
your body is fighting gravity and the weight of the world.
just look after your heart, that's all.
goodbye.