- Taking the time to scuttle to a lunchtime talk.
- The moon glowing through the black twigs of a single tree.
- A evening chattering in a garden.
- Walking through dark and balmy Holloway, listening to much northern soul far too loudly.
- The smooth flow of a purloined red pen.
Thursday 30 April 2009
Wednesday 29 April 2009
- Cat and Pamie make me weep with laughter, every time.
- A startlingly accurate pictoral representation of my Monday evening, even down to the name. Hee! (Or, does that make me geekier than ever...)
- The moment at which I took off my waist-cinching belt - a blessed relief after a large meal.
- A flying penguin, which appeared to signify the beginning of a fun evening.
- Six sweeties in a row, colour coded to the 6-sweet-sized-packaging.
Tuesday 28 April 2009
- Today I am channelling Jordan Baker. I feel like I should be playing tennis in a town named after a breakfast item.
- When work and studies collide, in a beautiful researchy puddle of glory. (Or, maybe I've just been staring at a computer for too long today?)
- Being reminded of McSweeney's lists.
- A renewed sense of glee about the multitude of options London offers for adventure and mischief every night.
- Lilies.
Monday 27 April 2009
- The best description of insomnia I've read in a while. (Relatedly, I'm thankful that I'm sleeping well at the moment. Sleeping like the dead, actually.)
- Shards of light glinting through a half-empty glass.
- An ill-advised second bottle.
- A pile of paper aeroplanes.
- People watching amongst the Skeptics. Hours of amusement (unlike the talk itself).
Sunday 26 April 2009
- A very productive morning, bouncing from Holloway to Spitalfields to the centre of town back to Holloway in the sunshine - feeling like a grown up because I was up and about early.
- An unexpectedly civilised evening - from cider in the sunshine to rolled shirt sleeves in the kitchen.
- Artichokes in a frittata.
- A cup of coffee made for me just as I left the house.
- Roy Orbison.
Saturday 25 April 2009
- A bluetit playing on the branch closest to my window. (And, when I came home later, a magpie was sitting close by.) I love the tree in the garden.
- Light skies at 9pm.
- A shared appreciation of a hoopoe.
- A bowl of lettuce.
- Ten minutes sitting in the sunshine outside the Natural History Museum with a Flannery O'Connor collection and a twister lolly.
Friday 24 April 2009
- Johnny Flynn's Brown Trout Blues.
- A stolen half hour with Holly outside the Home Office in the sunshine.
- Good company and bawdy conversation this evening, though I disappeared before I had the chance to change my mind. (101 indeed. Not a chance in hell.)
- Lunch in the park.
- Tea in bed.
Thursday 23 April 2009
- A breeze, winding its way through the window around the back of my neck.
- An unhurried morning allowed for frolicking.
- Tracking down pears in the shop. For a horrid moment, I thought I might have to do without today.
- A man staring intently into the boot of his car at a beautiful architectural model.
- Frozen spinach. Wonderous stuff.
Wednesday 22 April 2009
- Today, I am dressed like a doll. And I like it. (It was a mistake though, especially coming after yesterday's Olivia Newton John tribute. All I needed was John Travolta to say 'Saa-andy?' in confused tones.)
- The Mancunian, after a brief hiatus. It's just so good.
- Japanese seaweed salad.
- The explanation given for a shout of laughter, on meeting my sister, that we're like a movie about twins who've lived separate lives but despite many years and miles of distance are still the same but oh so different. Amusingly apt, I suspect.
- Bare legs and short sleeves, perched outside the French House. Summer.
Tuesday 21 April 2009
- Boys in cricket whites.
- "The bathroom at Mars Bar is grosser than anything that ever happened in middle school or Vietnam." A phrase that may be added to my vocabulary alongside "The conditions [of this basement frat party] are worse than the Somme." (Thank you, Sarah B and Nick D)
- Writing from a new black pen on my skin, looks like calligraphy.
- A hand on the small of my back.
- An intriguing couple in the (very small) audience. I want to know more.
Monday 20 April 2009
- This poem has been in my head all weekend, so much so that I've been sending it to people all day and making up riffs on a variation. As I arrived at my front door this evening, inevitably plugged into my ipod, this version of This American Life, all about false apologies, began a chapter about the very poem and many poets who have played around with it. Forgive me / they were delicious.
- Leaving a packet of papers in a shop on my way home, and the lovely shopgirl waiting for me to return after closing time to pick them up.
- An evening that felt like summer and, later, working on the doorstep.
- Touching base with Alf - usually we're like ships in the night.
- Empty.
Sunday 19 April 2009
- Realising that it's a different girl! A clone, but a different girl. It all makes sense.
- My first dictionary. Wicked.
- The blue of a magpie's wing.
- Casino by Annette Messeger. Mesmerising.
- Tangling my fingers in clean, soft and ungunked hair.
Saturday 18 April 2009
- Two perfectly positioned greasy pigeon footprints.
- Petals whirling in Shoreditch Park.
- A bride and groom framed in the Spitalfields Church doorway.
- Exploring the new Whitechapel gallery.
- A wise decision taken by my partner in crime to get out while the going was good. I'll never learn by myself.
Friday 17 April 2009
- The curve of the French coast cutting against the deep azure of the sea.
- Rillette and mache on bread.
- The road to Rodez in all its differing ways.
- Just catching the train, ducking under the crook of an arm.
- A moment of relief once through all the separate bits of security with the wrong name on my boarding card.
Thursday 16 April 2009
- A kite soaring close overhead (the bird, not the toy).
- The green of spring flushing the landscape, since I arrived.
- Sun warmed curls.
- Good bread.
- A fridge feast fit for a king.
Wednesday 15 April 2009
- A silly mutt prancing at my ankles.
- Tea and frites mayo while people watching in Sarlat.
- Hail, thunder and violet lightening.
- Toast and butter.
- Learning about farming through the ages.
Tuesday 14 April 2009
- A kir in the setting sunshine on the lawn.
- Jelly and icecream.
- Exploring new supermarkets in San Cere.
- Chatting with the neighbours.
- A cleaned house.
Monday 13 April 2009
- Thick white fog, and the shadow of a horse appearing through the cloud.
- A break in the rain, which allowed a walk around the loop.
- Helplessly giggling at celebrities in former lives.
- Pottering in the kitchen with the front door open - a hint of summer.
- A new vegetable? Blette.
Sunday 12 April 2009
- A couple of hours of work in front of the stove, with tea, hotwater bottle and the strains of BBC period drama from the other room.
- Blitzing through fiction.
- The first asparagus of the year.
- Steak - perfecty seasoned and cooked.
- John Donne, Anne Donne, undone.
Saturday 11 April 2009
- Sleeping disgustingly late.
- Radishes.
- Reading 2007 magazines in the bath.
- A France lunch - content and quantity.
Friday 10 April 2009
- The train journey from Tottenham Hale to Stansted is always beautiful. This morning, it was made even better by the punctuation of people doing bank holiday things - fishing, walking, golfing, putting up sheds...
- Being recognised by the butcher in Sousceyrac.
- A strangely quiet airportand my good timing within.
- Brandade.
- Arriving home to an opened up house - instant holiday.
Thursday 9 April 2009
- People-watching from the street curb. Deep analysis of relationships and status.
- A good meeting.
- The bubble of laughter provoked by the incongruity of a colleague proudly proclaiming that he sends Chomsky a birthday card ever year.
- The potential of a big bag of books
- A toffee-esque date. Tooth-achingly delicious.
Wednesday 8 April 2009
- My garden path was strewn with small yellow star shaped flowers as I left the house this morning.
- Setting a competition at work at 6pm, challenging colleagues to tell me the best book they've read recently in return for a copy of Death of a Naturalist. The replies made me smile.
- A soupy spinach, cauliflower, coconut curry.
- Waking up with reams of writing across my wrist.
- The pleasure of well stocked bookshelves.
Tuesday 7 April 2009
- Trying to rescue a poor broken scooter, and actually making myself ill with laughter.
- Fifties style.
- Cottage cheese with capers. Curiously good.
- A much needed glass of red after discovering a crisis.
- Walking across the Arsenal Stadium ground, in warm dark winds.
Monday 6 April 2009
- Logman Ltd - Specialists in Watermelons. (On Caledonian Road. !?)
- Things my boss has said. Too close to reality for comfort, really... "I thought you just, like, made tea and stuff".
- Sitting in darkness on the front step, brandy and LRB lonely hearts in hand, watching the buses soar by.
- Briefly giving into a weepy moment in the cinema.
- I bought an entirely frivolous bit of a hat yesterday. It's sitting atop my green bookshelves, winking at me and making me happy.
Sunday 5 April 2009
- Cold cauliflower macaroni cheese. Filthy but perfect.
- Eyes down on the 29.
- Smooth slippery limbs.
- Mainlining mint tea.
- Basics updated.
Saturday 4 April 2009
- A twister lolly.
- Spiral curls.
- Colourful bodies sprouting in green spaces across London.
- The beady eye of a black bird.
- Books in my bag.
Friday 3 April 2009
- A gospel choir in Dalston, heard through the walls at dusk.
- Nick drumming like he lives.
- A perfect pebble.
- Billowing black smoke from a black bike with a black-clad rider. The devil incarnate.
- A rescue mission.
Thursday 2 April 2009
- Two men carrying windows across a zebra-crossing, glass glittering in the sunlight down the street.
- Watching small polystyrene balls dancing in a dusty breeze.
- Wandering home, forced by a juiceless ipod to listen to the sounds of Clerkenwell.
- Over 70% of responses to an email call for help contained the word 'muppet'. Accurate and not undeserved.
- A cup of mint tea made for me while I was in the shower.
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