Saturday 31 January 2009

• The Voodoo show at Riflemaker. (And good shows at Annely Juda, White Cube Mason's Yard and Hauser & Wirth. In fact, a good couple of hours of gallery hopping.)
• A New York moment, over breakfast.
• The flat to myself for an evening.
• The wonderful number 29 bus.
• The skyline from Annely Juda - a view that makes me unexpectedly happy each time.

Friday 30 January 2009

• A stolen afternoon at home, in the quiet. Life semi-sorted as a consequence.
• A smattering of new pubs, including one with a good garden. Hoorah.
• A kitkat, for the first time in years (dunked into copious amounts of coffee).
• The moment, just after sliding into bed, that I stopped for the first time in a couple of weeks. Naturally, I was asleep three sentences into my book.
• A £5 new dress (inevitably, small and black).

Thursday 29 January 2009

• Coloured light dancing up and down the road, glowing as the sunshine streamed throught the Home Office windows.
• Hula hoops.
• Walking through St James' Park, just after dusk. A perfect sickle moon, high in the sky, a single glowing plane and skeletal, orange-flushed trees.
• A cold moment on the corner of a W1 street, looking up at the Post Office Tower.
• A snappy retort to a generic 'darlin'.

Wednesday 28 January 2009

• Tim and Holly, back together, just like it should be.
• A new pub. A new, good pub.
• An easy and laughter filled dinner with my sisters.
• Once-sodden boots that had dried out by the time I put them back on.
• Holst's Jupiter

Tuesday 27 January 2009

• Ellie, being a minx in a large meeting. Every Tuesday, I studiously avoid her eye, but every Tuesday she smirks at me, making me snort with almost-uncontrollable giggles.
• A moment of thankfulness, whilst almost engulfed by a swarm of gangly teenaged Westminster boys in sports kits, that I never ever have to do a whole-school run again - with or without hockey boots.
• Iphone. Magic.
• A very tiny quiet and in-my-head toast to the late great Updike.
• The clean and sweet burn of wasabi peas.

Monday 26 January 2009

• Heels! Relatedly, a successful wardrobe combination.
• A girl dressed all in black, slim like a liquorice stick, carrying a net bag full of tangerines through Westminster.
• The slightly eery light at 4.30pm.
• Good surreal text banter
• Twinkling across the pub, finished with a wry grin,

Sunday 25 January 2009

• An unexpected, impromptu and lovely breakfast.
• Catching up with an old and semi-neglected friend.
• Rafael Wallfisch's fingers. Mesmerising.
• Consecutive no-strings compliments.
• Bed.

Saturday 24 January 2009

• Calamity Jane, on a big screen. I think I might be in love with Bill Hickock, just a little bit.
• Knowing that it wasn't Laphroaig.
• A moment of restrained hysteria, sparked by an eye caught across the table amongst talk of window fittings, scaffolding and shampoo.
• A gen-u-ine muff. Amazing.
• Timeliness.

Friday 23 January 2009

• Daylight during the day. I've spent more time outside this winter than the last few. It's a good thing.
• Catching a whiff of Chanel No.5 on my scarf.
• A train of aging punk rockers, walking up Holloway Road trailing large instruments and larger suitcases. Hair appeared to be optional.
• An email from a very dear (and mildly MIA) friend. Even better, plotting to see her in person.
• Ross and Holly, unexpectedly in the Florence!

Thursday 22 January 2009

• Tabasco sauce. What's not to love?
• The word rancour running through my head, again and again. It feels like sucking on a polo.
• Acquiescence to a request for oysters.
• A slowed and sleep-heavy morning, running late, made perfectly neat by the realisation that I was exactly at the right pace to be on time for my meeting at Somerset House. In fact, I was early enough for a quick coffee around the corner.
• A man who, when asked what colour his missing scarf was, replied "It goes with a brown suit".

Wednesday 21 January 2009

• Mail being delivered between the royal houses by horse and carriage.
• A dog gleefully chasing pigeons in Russell Square.
• Three beautiful white-painted and glazed doors, stacked in the street, handles and all.
• Green laser beams cutting through the clouds above the ICA.
• An interesting talk at the Photographer's Gallery

Tuesday 20 January 2009

• Seagulls wheeling through the grey damp air outside my flat.
• Discovering the existence of strange and charmed quarks. Wonderful.
• The belly laugh that was provoked in the group of colleagues drawn together to watch the inauguration of Obama - a good moment in itself. The source of amusement was fleeting and unimportant, but the laughter was warm and genuine.
• This American Life podcast - today, on matchmaking. I think I might love Ira Glass just a little bit.
• Daffodils for sale. A harbinger of spring.

Monday 19 January 2009

• A nice smile from someone I knew in a past life.
• The fountains, back on in Russell Square.
• Swan Lake, slightly too loud (and the silhouette of a skirt that looks a little too tutu-like for my own good).
• A realisation that it's not me, it's just Sundays.
• Trying to explain a concept... same pen, different chew marks (and the associated decision to abandon a found uniball because of the process that ends in my very own individual scars on the end of a pen).

Sunday 18 January 2009

• A hotwater bottle, cup of tea and the papers in a warmed-through and rumpled bed at 4.30am.
• Rehydration.
• Red underwear, red shoes - a happy coincidence.
• Catherine the waitress.
• Mike's involuntary and uncontrollable laughter pealing through the flat.

Saturday 17 January 2009

• Sitting on a stranger's front steps, basking in the sunlight.
• Full English. Filthy, but so good.
• A ridiculous kiss.
• The barman who, upon seeing our retreat from the torrential rain back into the pub after closing time had been called, not only poured us a couple of large whiskys but pointed us in the direction of the stand full of lost and found umbrellas in order that we wouldn't get utterly drenched on our final departure.
• A summer dress, worn with many and varied layers.

Friday 16 January 2009

• A three-part pigeon moment: 1. A lady, walking at quite a speed, dropping a bag of bird seed in Northampton Square, in a single, fluid movement. A moment later, she had completely disappeared, ghost-like. 2. A flock of pigeons swirling and swooping at head height, obviously recognising their meal ticket. 3. A pigeon duel, resulting in one bird being frogmarched by the head, clasped in its opponent's beak, away from the crowd. It then ran back, in attack-mode. Hilarious.
• A shared moment of exasperation, eyes rolled silently from across the classroom.
• A breath of relief. It's Friday.
• A cinematically perfectly moment - laughter, pool and Oasis.
• Laphroaig. Two ice cubes.

Thursday 15 January 2009

• Snug as a gun. The words have been looping around my head for hours.
• Sleepily opening my eyes for the first time this morning, to be met by a view all across London: from the London Eye to Westminster to Canary Wharf, and further. I love the corner rooms at the St Martin's Lane Hotel. It's a lovely way to start the day.
• The taste and feel of passionfruit seeds.
• A beautiful b&w postcard, now pinned up on my desk (under this ludicrous cutting).
• Very good underwear.

Wednesday 14 January 2009

• Coffee, immediately upon arrival at work. Delicious and, more importantly, very very hot. Do not trust those BBC weather forecasts.
• Northern soul on Eugene, blocking out the noise of the bus.
• Chattering with Holly for a few moments, for the first time this month. A corollory of a vile piece of work finally being done. (Hoorah!)
• The smell of the pineboards being put up around the statues of important military men from times gone by on Whitehall.
• Cheese & onion crisps and red wine.

Tuesday 13 January 2009

• The recently deflowered girl. Love. Muchly.
• Barely supressed giggles in a VERY SERIOUS meeting. Apparently, hysteria can be well hidden behind a large mug whilst studiously avoiding Ellie's eye.
• A minor flirtation with someone completely, utterly, predictably and inescapably inappropriate.
• The moment I walk past the Houses of Parliament each evening, and see the Eye, lit up and shining though the fence, tucked in against St Stephen's Tower.
• Broccoli.

Monday 12 January 2009

• Managing to retrieve the jet from my earring, after dropping it in the middle of the road on Westminster Bridge. (Tell me, though, how a girl's supposed to wrangle scarves and ipod strings and hair and sunglasses in any form of elegance?)
• Credit crunch wardrobe combinations.
• A clean, calm and tidy flat - necessary salve for a fraught day.
• Water gushing from a standpipe on Whitehall - quite out of context, but aesthetically pleasing nonetheless.
• A girl with fantastic red hair.

Sunday 11 January 2009

• It is time to tidy up your life.
• Popcorn, well made.
• Firstly, a point of confession. Despite never wearing trousers, last summer I bought a pair of skinny black jeans just because they're a small size 8 and just because they fit me nicely. However, today, on wearing them outside for the first time this winter, I've revelled in the fact that they actually keep me significantly warmer than the 60 denier alternative. Warm legs are a definite bonus when it's so cold out. (And they make me look skinny - can't go wrong.)
• A misread bottle, leading to a curiousity about what, possibly, ovenproof rum could be, and why that would be a valued characteristic?
• Devendra Banhart

Saturday 10 January 2009

• Smoke spiralling through cold dark air at 4am.
• Marmite and butter on pitta.
• A really good long hot shower.
• The moon spotted through a twiggy tree, which was lit from below.
• A purloined chip or two.

Friday 9 January 2009

• Bright, wintery sunshine on my way to class, daylight on my way home. The concomittant sense that winter might just be on its way out (a sense that is utterly belied by the sub-zero temperatures, mind you).
• The phrase 'enlightened despot'.
• The amusement found in the fact that a programme called Golden Balls is presented by quite such a bald and orange man.
• A friend finally understanding how I feel about Updike. Just the thought of the Rabbit books makes me happy.
• Wireless!! It's been a long time coming.

Thursday 8 January 2009

• A £265,000 project to investigate the 'shoe tree mystery'. A £265,000 project to investigate the 'shoe tree mystery' that came up with nothing but rumour.
• An oreo cookie.
• A thick and slightly eery fog, cut through by the orange glow of streetlamps on the treelined parts of Caledonian Road.
• Delicious roasted tomato mush.
• A little bit of Zizek.

Wednesday 7 January 2009

• Not losing another pair of gloves.
• The aching tiredness that comes with a mild hangover. A welcome reminder of last night's fun.
• A hastily assembled, but surprisingly successful outfit.
• Bearded scientists, passionate about astronomy and telescopes.
• Excel. I love excel.

Tuesday 6 January 2009

• Being inspired by a colleague eating a smoked salmon and egg baguette in a meeting to go and find such a thing for myself - consumed leaning against a sun-washed wall in the cold.
• A coloured sky as the sun set over Westminster Abbey, spotted while sitting at my desk. A quietly lovely moment in a tough day.
• Anders loves Maria
• A well-timed display of affection.
• The ache that comes from having walked too far, too fast in the cold over the last few days. I think I've clocked up a good 25-30 miles since Saturday. It's a good feeling though.

Monday 5 January 2009

• Walking to work along quiet grey streets, through falling snow.
• Narnia-flavoured banter before 8.30am.
• Bath. Book. Bottle of red. Bed.
• Using the phrase 'it's wicked cold' in entirely the right Bostonian context.
• The curiously comforting but deeply unsexy combination of a big old bowl of porridge consumed while safe in the knowledge that knee-length burlington socks are hidden under my boots. A bizarre association perhaps, but both are trusted weapons in battle against the chill of January.

Sunday 4 January 2008

• A long, shimmering strand of cassette tape blowing across the road, glinting orange under the street lights of an isolated industrial backstreet.
• Walking past the now cordoned-off Anish Kapoor sculpture at Tate Modern, with a (slightly smug) recall of the privilege of standing inside it - remembering what an overwhelming sensation it was.
• Being able to deal with an emergency for my middle sister.
• The warmth of three scarves, in particular the present from a friend that makes me think of her each time I wear it.
• A fried egg parcel on top of sludgy green spinach risotto. I ate too much.

Saturday 3 January 2009

• Watching Baz Luhrmann's Romeo and Juliet in the wee hours of the morning, and the feeling that the music provokes involuntarily in me. Hours of listening to the soundtrack in the dark as a teenager in France has left a somewhat pavlovian response. Fab film.
• Russell Square at dusk, and an unexpected, involuntary, internal 'i love london' moment.
• Katy Grannan's The Westerns. The pictures of Nicole were mesmerising.
• A surfeit of coriander seeds.
• Standing by my radiator, getting ready to go out. Warmth and anticipation entwined.

Friday 2 January 2009

• Does she love you? (via Give me something to read)
• Remembering the first good day of last year.
• Deciding that, while I still don't really want to make resolutions (why set myself up to fail - I've the attention span of a gnat) maybe this year, a good thing to work towards would be wearing heels every so often - just because.
• Touched up scarlet toenails (and fingers, naturally).
• A hand on my shoulder.

Thursday 1 January 2009

• Wandering across Hampstead Heath this morning - blustery and grey. A good way to start the new year.
• Reheated egg fried rice, eaten with a teaspoon from the metal container.
• Dogwatching on the heath - so many silly mutts.
• Suddenly realising just how good I'm going to feel when I slide between my bedsheets, very soon.
• Fingers wrapped around my little brass kaleidoscope in my pocket as I walked down Camden Road.

2008

Key words and moments
It's all been a bit nuts.
Gallery hopping, the Mancunian, tequila, sisters, funeral, green bookshelves, walking, Moureze twice over, trapped in the stairwell post Batman, liquid eyeliner, Laura 1st floor, openings and pvs, 50s frocks, sitting on the windowsill, a walk of shame or two, honesty and respect?, doppelganger encounter, Southbank Centre, Leonard Cohen, Kate's emigration, my first date, flathunting, 5am, 29 bus ... (more to come, I'm sure)

What did you do in 2008 that you’d never done before?
Lots - 'new and exciting' was a motto.

Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
None made this year or last.

Did anyone close to you give birth?
Rosemary, my cousin.

Did anyone close to you die?
My grandmother, in June.

What countries did you visit?
France

What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008?
Inner peace, a new job

What days from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
- 5 January - breaking up
- 9 Feb - moving out
- A lost weekend with Ross in April
- Moureze in April
- The tree coming down in Moureze
- Paris for a day
- The first good day of the year - waking up covered in fingerprints and hand shaped bruises, sitting on top of Primrose Hill in good company, a greasy spoon breakfast, a penguin classic, walking home along the Canal, daffodils, a quiet and calm day to myself, dinner with my Ma.

What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Just being, I think. Being independent and happy and sane. Being adult and responsibility-free.

What was your biggest failure?
££

Did you suffer illness or injury?
- Started the year with the flu, ended it with norovirus.
- Stilettoed by a dancing drag queen.
- Stood on a bottle at White Cube.
- More hangovers than I can shake a stick at.

What was the best thing you bought?
Eugene the ipod, perhaps?

Whose behavior merited celebration?
Struggling with this question.

Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Cheating men, again and again and again. I've lost faith in any possibility that a relationship could be free from infidelity.

Where did most of your money go?
Art and alcohol. The occasional little black dress.

What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Nothing that springs to mind. There must have been lots of things though. Small things, each day.

Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder? happier
b) thinner or fatter? about the same - maybe a little thinner
c) richer or poorer? poorer

What do you wish you’d done more of?
Seen more performing art. More MA work over the summer.

What do you wish you’d done less of?
Pissing around online.

How did you spend Christmas?
Oldmeldrum and Arundel

Did you fall in love in 2008?
No

What was your greatest musical discovery?
seeqpod.com.

What did you want and get?
My own way, quite often.

What did you want and not get?
A couple of jobs

What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
Sushi followed by champagne at Claridges with my sister. I turned 26.

What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
More time.

How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2008?
Small and black. The leather jacket was an interesting addition.

What kept you sane?
People. Walking.

What political issue stirred you the most?
US election. Prop 8.

Who did you miss?
Rich - which is not something I admit to myself very often, let alone anyone else. I miss how we once were together, and the potential of what we could have been. I wouldn't change things though, because I don't miss how things actually were.

Who was the best new person you met?
This has been a good year for new people.

Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2008.
There's no point in worrying about things ahead of time. Just be zen. It'll all work out in the end.

More here: All & Sundry