Saturday, March 25, 2006

Last one left...

As I write I can hear Chris locking his room as he leaves for the Easter Holidays.

That makes me the last one left on my floor.
The silence is refreshing. I could wonder around naked is I should so choose to do so.

I can now hear Rob's feet clicking. He's taking me home soon.

And much as I want to go back home to family, and the rolling green of Wiltshire, I am a little sad. As Southampton is a part of me now. There are memories here. Friends are attached to this place.

It's a pleasant bittersweet feeling. To have allegiance somewhere other than where your family resides.

There is much to do this Easter. Three assessd written assignments, one on the disneyization of a local public history site, one on the role of women during the Russian Revolutions and one on a title I have yet to choose, but it must be related to the First Crusade. This work will keep me busy for a long long while.

If I get it done early on there will be time for painting and reading of novels and much much knitting.

I have started knitting a pair of tight fitting jade green gloves, made from the beautiful 100% merino yarn Chris gave me for Christmas. I bought tiny buttons, flowershaped ones that look like they are made from bone, through they are probably plastic to embellish them. I hope they look right against the fine stitch defintition.

Rob is also taking me to a bike race this Easter holiday. I am so very excited.

For once I know who I am and where I am going. This is satifying and exciting and new all at once. I want to cry about it. I don't know why.

Last one left...

As I write I can hear Chris locking his room as he leaves for the Easter Holidays.

That makes me the last one left on my floor.
The silence is refreshing. I could wonder around naked is I should so choose to do so.

I can now hear Rob's feet clicking. He's taking me home soon.

And much as I want to go back home to family, and the rolling green of Wiltshire, I am a little sad. As Southampton is a part of me now. There are memories here. Friends are attached to this place.

It's a pleasant bittersweet feeling. To have allegiance somewhere other than where your family resides.

There is much to do this Easter. Three assessd written assignments, one on the disneyization of a local public history site, one on the role of women during the Russian Revolutions and one on a title I have yet to choose, but it must be related to the First Crusade. This work will keep me busy for a long long while.

If I get it done early on there will be time for painting and reading of novels and much much knitting.

I have started knitting a pair of tight fitting jade green gloves, made from the beautiful 100% merino yarn Chris gave me for Christmas. I bought tiny buttons, flowershaped ones that look like they are made from bone, through they are probably plastic to embellish them. I hope they look right against the fine stitch defintition.

Rob is also taking me to a bike race this Easter holiday. I am so very excited.

For once I know who I am and where I am going. This is satifying and exciting and new all at once. I want to cry about it. I don't know why.

Thursday, March 16, 2006

please work

If there could be anything material that I could have it would be thus. (please excuse grammar and spelling. this is cathartic stream of conciousness that i want to shout about, where else but a blog for that)
 
There will be a big farmhouse and the edges of a market town, where they still had a market. it would be red brick and warm and cosy. there'd be a field so rob could play football with the lads and enough land for a couple of sheep and some chickens. i'd have fresh boiled eggs for breakfast with marmite soliders and love. the lounge wouldn't have a telly plugged in to the aerial, only dvds so only good things could be watched, and it's have red velvet sofa and a rug to warm toes in and a pile of books and a pile of yarn.
 
There'd be four happy children and a big kitchen table and light hearted teasing and huge bowls of soup for the world and his mate. and a big range cooker not an aga but a gas one so i could teach the kids about melting marshmellows on rainy days and teach them to spin and make wool and knit teddy sized jumpers.there would be big dinner parties where friends from all over come down and make witty speeches about unidays and football triumphs and drink red wine and eat good cheese. where i'd cook all day and grin when the food disappears in 20 mins and the kids hide under the table cloth to steal brownies and snatches and snippets of jokes and bygone years.
 
There's be a multitude of topsy turvey rooms upstairs and a rowdy teenage music and "where are my socks mum" and laughter they learn to play guitar from their dad.  The master bedroom would have a huge sleigh bed for sex and tears and long summer nights and where small children would creep in when they had a nightmare and for opening presents on at christmas or birthdays. and mothersday breakfast in bed.
 
and we'd bury hamsters in the garden next to begraggled sunflowers and nastursiums
There'd be a recording studio in the barn for rob to work on his producing and where local bands could come rehearse. 
 
My hair would grey and i would wear it in a fat plait encicling my head, and i;d look like mrs christmas and make a red dress like hers to wear in winter to sell baked goods at the WI christmas fair. My face would be creased by a thousand memories happy and sad and they wouls show when i smiled as the ghosts of good laughs. i would be old but cheerfully reckless and wear purples as the poem goes and smile as they brought the grandchildren over for a weekend rolling in the mud and finger painting and making fairy houses in the woods.
 
and i would be happy surrounded by this and never as alone as i feel now
 
 

please work

If there could be anything material that I could have it would be thus. (please excuse grammar and spelling. this is cathartic stream of conciousness that i want to shout about, where else but a blog for that)
 
There will be a big farmhouse and the edges of a market town, where they still had a market. it would be red brick and warm and cosy. there'd be a field so rob could play football with the lads and enough land for a couple of sheep and some chickens. i'd have fresh boiled eggs for breakfast with marmite soliders and love. the lounge wouldn't have a telly plugged in to the aerial, only dvds so only good things could be watched, and it's have red velvet sofa and a rug to warm toes in and a pile of books and a pile of yarn.
 
There'd be four happy children and a big kitchen table and light hearted teasing and huge bowls of soup for the world and his mate. and a big range cooker not an aga but a gas one so i could teach the kids about melting marshmellows on rainy days and teach them to spin and make wool and knit teddy sized jumpers.there would be big dinner parties where friends from all over come down and make witty speeches about unidays and football triumphs and drink red wine and eat good cheese. where i'd cook all day and grin when the food disappears in 20 mins and the kids hide under the table cloth to steal brownies and snatches and snippets of jokes and bygone years.
 
There's be a multitude of topsy turvey rooms upstairs and a rowdy teenage music and "where are my socks mum" and laughter they learn to play guitar from their dad.  The master bedroom would have a huge sleigh bed for sex and tears and long summer nights and where small children would creep in when they had a nightmare and for opening presents on at christmas or birthdays. and mothersday breakfast in bed.
 
and we'd bury hamsters in the garden next to begraggled sunflowers and nastursiums
There'd be a recording studio in the barn for rob to work on his producing and where local bands could come rehearse. 
 
My hair would grey and i would wear it in a fat plait encicling my head, and i;d look like mrs christmas and make a red dress like hers to wear in winter to sell baked goods at the WI christmas fair. My face would be creased by a thousand memories happy and sad and they wouls show when i smiled as the ghosts of good laughs. i would be old but cheerfully reckless and wear purples as the poem goes and smile as they brought the grandchildren over for a weekend rolling in the mud and finger painting and making fairy houses in the woods.
 
and i would be happy surrounded by this and never as alone as i feel now
 
 

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

Update and Task set by Lizzy

Inbetween world I drift and smile to myself at the knowledge all is well in me.

My cooking triumph for Rob's rents' 25th Wedding Anniversary left me glowing at praise that included:

"You will make an excellent wife"

The look on their face when they walked into a room full of old friends, balloons and a three course meal was priceless and a memory I'll treasure. rob and I did good. As they say.

The train ride home that day left me glowing as well. Sat ensconced at a tble with two old gents, one considerablely older than the other, I though this would lead to a journey of boredem. I was pleasantly surprised. The older gent had just returned to Southampton from South America by boat by the way of the West Indies, and was full of stories of Mayan textiles and strange voyages. The other man whom I tried to help with his cross word was a music journalist and debated the merits of the new wave of real music that has been sweeping Britain. Guitar driven music that is about sound not face.

And all because I was knitting on the train. I doubt I would have captured their interest enough to merit a smile without my glorious knitting.

Of which there has been much.

I have completed baby clothes for my friend Fran who is expecting twins, I have nearly finished a sleeve for my Arisaig and being a project whore, started a scarf that is for someone's birthday today, so when I get in there will be serious kniting upon that. Pictures if I can find a working camera.

And now for Lizzy's Task:-

Describe the next person you see.

Bounding across the room he came. Like a gamboling puppy or a mischevious sprite. There was always something of Puck in him and his lolling gait, an untouchable grace that didn't fit with the rest of him. The lock of hair that falls in his eyes was impossible to reconcile with such feline elegance, nor the stripy arthouse jumper or the skateboarding shoes.

He was unassuming, unoticable for so long. The quietness made him seem alone in a crowd. But it is written the truth will set you free, and with him it did. Underneath what is given first was a seam of rich humour and wit like finding coal to warm the world in your back garden. A clever, well read mind burnt energy furiously and created a silliness that broke the awkwardness of before.

It was the generosity that struck me the most. The willingness to give what little or much he had. Time, money or a shoulder were always readily available. And are always greatly appreciated. Greatly appreciated.

Update and Task set by Lizzy

Inbetween world I drift and smile to myself at the knowledge all is well in me.

My cooking triumph for Rob's rents' 25th Wedding Anniversary left me glowing at praise that included:

"You will make an excellent wife"

The look on their face when they walked into a room full of old friends, balloons and a three course meal was priceless and a memory I'll treasure. rob and I did good. As they say.

The train ride home that day left me glowing as well. Sat ensconced at a tble with two old gents, one considerablely older than the other, I though this would lead to a journey of boredem. I was pleasantly surprised. The older gent had just returned to Southampton from South America by boat by the way of the West Indies, and was full of stories of Mayan textiles and strange voyages. The other man whom I tried to help with his cross word was a music journalist and debated the merits of the new wave of real music that has been sweeping Britain. Guitar driven music that is about sound not face.

And all because I was knitting on the train. I doubt I would have captured their interest enough to merit a smile without my glorious knitting.

Of which there has been much.

I have completed baby clothes for my friend Fran who is expecting twins, I have nearly finished a sleeve for my Arisaig and being a project whore, started a scarf that is for someone's birthday today, so when I get in there will be serious kniting upon that. Pictures if I can find a working camera.

And now for Lizzy's Task:-

Describe the next person you see.

Bounding across the room he came. Like a gamboling puppy or a mischevious sprite. There was always something of Puck in him and his lolling gait, an untouchable grace that didn't fit with the rest of him. The lock of hair that falls in his eyes was impossible to reconcile with such feline elegance, nor the stripy arthouse jumper or the skateboarding shoes.

He was unassuming, unoticable for so long. The quietness made him seem alone in a crowd. But it is written the truth will set you free, and with him it did. Underneath what is given first was a seam of rich humour and wit like finding coal to warm the world in your back garden. A clever, well read mind burnt energy furiously and created a silliness that broke the awkwardness of before.

It was the generosity that struck me the most. The willingness to give what little or much he had. Time, money or a shoulder were always readily available. And are always greatly appreciated. Greatly appreciated.