"Dude"
"Mate"
"How goes it?"
"You know..."
"Man."
"Yeah."
In literary terms the above is practically pointless and probably a waste of space. In real life that conversation could be a deep and meaningful moment between two friends because communication is not strictly about the words. The relationship, the history, the story, the tone of voice, the speed of delivery, the physical proximity, the facial expression and probably a great deal more all contribute to the meaning of words being shared.
As an aspiring writer the descriptive side of things I thoroughly enjoy and feel that I'm showing a certain about of promise in this creative area. However trying to write dialogue is proving interesting at best and very troublesome at worst!
I cannot help but draw parallels with my life and what I am writing and the influence both have on each other. I occasionally sit back and just listen to conversations and how people interact with one another, and sometimes I do this to myself (I usually get quite worried at this point!). Without knowing the full picture, which I admit is very difficult to know, some conversations can seem very superficial, weird, inappropriate, horrible, ad nauseum etc. What's worse is when I look at some of mine and realise that they quite often are like that.
If I'm particularly quiet, it could be a number of things, and if at some point in the future you read a novel by yours truely and something reads familiar, my thanks to you for helping me with the art of conversation.
Saturday, 26 September 2009
Wednesday, 23 September 2009
An Extract From My Novel
Thought that I should do as promised and put up something related to the novel I am writing. This is just a first draft of the chapter thus there are probably grammatical errors and clunky bits which will get ironed out over time. But anyways feel free to let me know what you think.
Teah stood outside the church, nervous.
Mcflurry in hand, ice cream melting quickly in the early Indian summer evening. Pacing up and down. Up and down. A small queue was already forming to his left, no right, no left.
The imposing architecture and the late sun dropping behind the church cast long shadows. Teah removed his jacket, it felt restrictive, or maybe he’d put on weight. Whether or not it was a psychological thing or not it didn’t matter. He couldn’t quite explain why he was so uptight. Then undid another shirt button, then did it back up again. Quite an achievement while carrying ice cream.
After what seemed like an eternity but was probably closer to ten minutes he spotted Rebecca amongst a small crowd of people who had crossed the high street together. He tried to throw a nonchalant wave. She spotted him. A moment later she was in his arms. Relief.
“Hello sweetpea” he stammered
“Teah, darling!” with a smile that melted him like the earlier ice cream.
“Shall we join the queue?” he asked.
“Lets, lets. So do we know who the special guest is or is it still a surprise?”
“No idea at all, not even the running order which looks like it’s been hastily bluetacked to the wall behind that makeshift entrance desk says!”
Ten minutes later and they walked through into the sanctuary of the Union Chapel. A beautiful, octagonal 18th Century edifice which tonight was hosting Live at the Chapel, a monthly comedy night. What the Almighty thought of comedy was anyone’s business, but no one had been struck down yet, well at least not as far as anyone knew of. As such jokes at God or rather religion’s expense were to be expected noting the unusual surroundings. All things considered it did make considerable economic and practical sense, so why not use such a unique building as much as possible? With its high ceilings, stain glass windows, superb acoustics and pews.
With a sense of purpose they made their way towards the front. First impressions were that of eccentric confusion. Comedy club in church? Rock and roll in church? Jazz band in comedy club? Pews in comedy club? Whatever next? This eclectic mix in “God’s house” was going to be an experience to behold. They slotted into an empty pew a few rows from the front.
“Do you think the neon sign will be on tomorrow above the reverend‘s pulpit?” laughed Teah.
“Hehe, can you imagine that, so funny for the rev to look up and see a red sign saying live at the chapel!”
As is the way a natural lull fell upon conversation, statistically speaking it’s usually after about twenty three minutes. This lull was accompanied by a jazz band called The Band unsurprisingly playing jazz, unsurprisingly being very good, surprisingly playing a cover of Satisfaction by the Rolling Stones. It was a peculiar thing which Teah decided should be shared with Rebecca for lack of anything else to say and to end the lull.
“A bit different is it not to have a jazz band playing in a church at a comedy night, no?”
“I think this whole evening is an eclectic mix so nothing is surprising me, they’re very good though aren’t they.”
“Yes they are, exceptionally gifted purveyors of rhythm and blues. It must however be an odd feeling playing a show like this. More so as their front man is a saxophone player, so there is no verbal communication with the audience.”
“Quite. Which could explain the polite applause after every song as opposed to the adulation they deserve!”
“Not sure what the Almighty would say about someone on his stage getting adulation. Let’s hope there’s no smiting.”
The band paused, and a booming voice spoke forth.
“Ladies and Gentleman, please welcome your host and tonight’s compère Mr Allan Tiny”
Cue rapturous applause.
“Good evening all. How are we all doing? What a fascinating venue eh. I would advise everyone to pay attention to certain rules or risk the wrath of the Almighty. And God would be upset too.”
Cue mild laughter.
“Sadly there is no drinking in the main chapel area, however there is a bar upstairs. And far be it from me to suggest that buying spirits with a mixer is a clever way of disguising alcohol, the eyes of God do see all things! I however don’t like spirits thus am stuck with fizzy pop. How very rock n roll eh.”
Cue mixture of disgruntled laughter.
“So tonight we have a fantastic evening of comedic entertainment for you. Some live acts, as opposed to dead ones, they never did translate too well to a live audience. Comedians and comediennes who will tickle you pink, make you think and possibly help you forget that you are in a church and that you are wedged into these God awful pews. “
Cue uncomfortable laughter.
However before I welcome the first comedienne to the stage I just wanted to ask a question or two. So lads, who here thinks he’s on a date but really the girl you’re with doesn’t like you that way?”
Teah laughed somewhat uncomfortably at this, heightened considerably by Rebecca’s sideways glance and comment. “How gutted must you be if that was you! Evening over!”
“Haha, that‘s got you worried now lads, don‘t worry though, it‘s probably not you!” continued the compère.
Dee swallowed anxiously and laughed again a little too loudly.
“Hopefully…”
Cue more laughter.
So without further ado, may I introduce our opening act…”
To Teah it could only have felt worse if he’d been called a paedophile or had his pants pulled down in front of everyone. It was as if a massive spotlight had been shone sorely on him in the midst of that darkly lit hall, his very soul exposed to all to see, and Rebecca was looking down her elegant nose at him with disdain written across her fair features. Shocked that he would feel that way.
‘Help.’
He vaguely noticed Rebecca jabbing him in the ribs and motioning that the person on stage was really very funny. At this point Teah noticed that there was a young lady, with a guitar singing some inappropriate songs about child birth.
‘Was this the first act still?’
‘How long have I been lost in my own thoughts?’
He glanced at Rebecca, and she smiled back.
‘She seems to be having a good time still so it can’t be that bad. Maybe she hadn’t noticed!’
“Very amusing” Teah finally said out loud.
And so the evening progressed, the audience laughed vigorously and the acts lapped up the applause and held them skilfully in the palm of their comedic hands. Soon people forgot they were sitting very upright in less than comfortable surroundings, then before you knew it the compère was bidding all a good night and enticing one final round of applause.
Upon leaving the church Rebecca wrapped her arm through Teah’s and lent on his shoulder. “So what did you think? And you went a bit quiet half way through, lost in your own thoughts for a bit eh?!”
“Um yeah, twas great wasn’t it. How weird was that guy shoving a beer bottle up his bum, not expecting that at all. Beside him the rest was really good. I liked the joke about existentialism and a dog named Buddha.”
“Yes, very odd and not funny at all. You know what would be though“ said Rebecca, “you should write a scene into your novel about tonight, except that it should be that the male character is secretly in love with the female character, and how the comedian is the one who reveals that to everyone, but the awkwardness is only felt by the male character. That would make for a great subplot to your novel! What do you think?”
‘HELP!’
(C) 2009 David Thomas
Teah stood outside the church, nervous.
Mcflurry in hand, ice cream melting quickly in the early Indian summer evening. Pacing up and down. Up and down. A small queue was already forming to his left, no right, no left.
The imposing architecture and the late sun dropping behind the church cast long shadows. Teah removed his jacket, it felt restrictive, or maybe he’d put on weight. Whether or not it was a psychological thing or not it didn’t matter. He couldn’t quite explain why he was so uptight. Then undid another shirt button, then did it back up again. Quite an achievement while carrying ice cream.
After what seemed like an eternity but was probably closer to ten minutes he spotted Rebecca amongst a small crowd of people who had crossed the high street together. He tried to throw a nonchalant wave. She spotted him. A moment later she was in his arms. Relief.
“Hello sweetpea” he stammered
“Teah, darling!” with a smile that melted him like the earlier ice cream.
“Shall we join the queue?” he asked.
“Lets, lets. So do we know who the special guest is or is it still a surprise?”
“No idea at all, not even the running order which looks like it’s been hastily bluetacked to the wall behind that makeshift entrance desk says!”
Ten minutes later and they walked through into the sanctuary of the Union Chapel. A beautiful, octagonal 18th Century edifice which tonight was hosting Live at the Chapel, a monthly comedy night. What the Almighty thought of comedy was anyone’s business, but no one had been struck down yet, well at least not as far as anyone knew of. As such jokes at God or rather religion’s expense were to be expected noting the unusual surroundings. All things considered it did make considerable economic and practical sense, so why not use such a unique building as much as possible? With its high ceilings, stain glass windows, superb acoustics and pews.
With a sense of purpose they made their way towards the front. First impressions were that of eccentric confusion. Comedy club in church? Rock and roll in church? Jazz band in comedy club? Pews in comedy club? Whatever next? This eclectic mix in “God’s house” was going to be an experience to behold. They slotted into an empty pew a few rows from the front.
“Do you think the neon sign will be on tomorrow above the reverend‘s pulpit?” laughed Teah.
“Hehe, can you imagine that, so funny for the rev to look up and see a red sign saying live at the chapel!”
As is the way a natural lull fell upon conversation, statistically speaking it’s usually after about twenty three minutes. This lull was accompanied by a jazz band called The Band unsurprisingly playing jazz, unsurprisingly being very good, surprisingly playing a cover of Satisfaction by the Rolling Stones. It was a peculiar thing which Teah decided should be shared with Rebecca for lack of anything else to say and to end the lull.
“A bit different is it not to have a jazz band playing in a church at a comedy night, no?”
“I think this whole evening is an eclectic mix so nothing is surprising me, they’re very good though aren’t they.”
“Yes they are, exceptionally gifted purveyors of rhythm and blues. It must however be an odd feeling playing a show like this. More so as their front man is a saxophone player, so there is no verbal communication with the audience.”
“Quite. Which could explain the polite applause after every song as opposed to the adulation they deserve!”
“Not sure what the Almighty would say about someone on his stage getting adulation. Let’s hope there’s no smiting.”
The band paused, and a booming voice spoke forth.
“Ladies and Gentleman, please welcome your host and tonight’s compère Mr Allan Tiny”
Cue rapturous applause.
“Good evening all. How are we all doing? What a fascinating venue eh. I would advise everyone to pay attention to certain rules or risk the wrath of the Almighty. And God would be upset too.”
Cue mild laughter.
“Sadly there is no drinking in the main chapel area, however there is a bar upstairs. And far be it from me to suggest that buying spirits with a mixer is a clever way of disguising alcohol, the eyes of God do see all things! I however don’t like spirits thus am stuck with fizzy pop. How very rock n roll eh.”
Cue mixture of disgruntled laughter.
“So tonight we have a fantastic evening of comedic entertainment for you. Some live acts, as opposed to dead ones, they never did translate too well to a live audience. Comedians and comediennes who will tickle you pink, make you think and possibly help you forget that you are in a church and that you are wedged into these God awful pews. “
Cue uncomfortable laughter.
However before I welcome the first comedienne to the stage I just wanted to ask a question or two. So lads, who here thinks he’s on a date but really the girl you’re with doesn’t like you that way?”
Teah laughed somewhat uncomfortably at this, heightened considerably by Rebecca’s sideways glance and comment. “How gutted must you be if that was you! Evening over!”
“Haha, that‘s got you worried now lads, don‘t worry though, it‘s probably not you!” continued the compère.
Dee swallowed anxiously and laughed again a little too loudly.
“Hopefully…”
Cue more laughter.
So without further ado, may I introduce our opening act…”
To Teah it could only have felt worse if he’d been called a paedophile or had his pants pulled down in front of everyone. It was as if a massive spotlight had been shone sorely on him in the midst of that darkly lit hall, his very soul exposed to all to see, and Rebecca was looking down her elegant nose at him with disdain written across her fair features. Shocked that he would feel that way.
‘Help.’
He vaguely noticed Rebecca jabbing him in the ribs and motioning that the person on stage was really very funny. At this point Teah noticed that there was a young lady, with a guitar singing some inappropriate songs about child birth.
‘Was this the first act still?’
‘How long have I been lost in my own thoughts?’
He glanced at Rebecca, and she smiled back.
‘She seems to be having a good time still so it can’t be that bad. Maybe she hadn’t noticed!’
“Very amusing” Teah finally said out loud.
And so the evening progressed, the audience laughed vigorously and the acts lapped up the applause and held them skilfully in the palm of their comedic hands. Soon people forgot they were sitting very upright in less than comfortable surroundings, then before you knew it the compère was bidding all a good night and enticing one final round of applause.
Upon leaving the church Rebecca wrapped her arm through Teah’s and lent on his shoulder. “So what did you think? And you went a bit quiet half way through, lost in your own thoughts for a bit eh?!”
“Um yeah, twas great wasn’t it. How weird was that guy shoving a beer bottle up his bum, not expecting that at all. Beside him the rest was really good. I liked the joke about existentialism and a dog named Buddha.”
“Yes, very odd and not funny at all. You know what would be though“ said Rebecca, “you should write a scene into your novel about tonight, except that it should be that the male character is secretly in love with the female character, and how the comedian is the one who reveals that to everyone, but the awkwardness is only felt by the male character. That would make for a great subplot to your novel! What do you think?”
‘HELP!’
(C) 2009 David Thomas
Tuesday, 22 September 2009
Have I Mellowed Too Much?
At some point this evening I was hit by the thought; have I mellowed too much?
I think that if people who know me thought about it (not that I think they do or should) they would agree that I have mellowed over the last few years. I know that I have mellowed. But I am left wondering is it too much?
Have I lost the fire that burned inside and led me to action. Now admittedly I did get things wrong a fair amount of the time BUT at least I was passionate and tried to act accordingly! I was zealous for things to be right and desperate that people be treated as equitably as possible.
And I think in that passion I was creative and full of life and vigour and ideas and now as I sit here on my bed; my legs aching, 75 thousand words of a novel still to be written, wondering what will become of all the songs that have been written, I think what happened to that young man full of fire and ideas.
I think that if people who know me thought about it (not that I think they do or should) they would agree that I have mellowed over the last few years. I know that I have mellowed. But I am left wondering is it too much?
Have I lost the fire that burned inside and led me to action. Now admittedly I did get things wrong a fair amount of the time BUT at least I was passionate and tried to act accordingly! I was zealous for things to be right and desperate that people be treated as equitably as possible.
And I think in that passion I was creative and full of life and vigour and ideas and now as I sit here on my bed; my legs aching, 75 thousand words of a novel still to be written, wondering what will become of all the songs that have been written, I think what happened to that young man full of fire and ideas.
Monday, 21 September 2009
Positive Positive Positive
My parents (who are amazingly loving and learned people) are fond of reminding me about how important the things we say are. To quote an old proverb and personal favourite saying of theirs "Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof".
Thus today, despite the rather large and probably growing pile of work at my proverbial front door I am deciding to stay positive and more importantly my words shall reflect this. And if you hear me speaking in the negative feel free to pull me up short!
Thus today, despite the rather large and probably growing pile of work at my proverbial front door I am deciding to stay positive and more importantly my words shall reflect this. And if you hear me speaking in the negative feel free to pull me up short!
Saturday, 19 September 2009
Disappointed or Disappointed at being Disappointed
So last night was the most bizarre evening I have had in a long time. I had the priviledge of being my dear friend Dave's plus one at the Christian Blog Awards. His blog was up in the under 25 category (http://www.thattheologystudent.blogspot.com/) and I thoroughly recommend it.
Amusingly this thorough recommendation is completely biased, the fact is I love Dave and would read his blog if it was utter tripe, however the fact is it's actually very good. It has wit, elegant prose, honesty, sincerity, asks big important questions but isn't afraid to meander into a trivilaity. And most importantly he does it for the right reasons. Not for fame, adulation, numbers, but because he wants to write and record some of the experiences he is going through.
Now I could go off on the tangent of what is a Christian blog, in a similar way as to what is a Christian band? I stick by the truth that the only things that can be called Christian are those who profess Jesus Christ as Lord, which the last time I checked was not a blog and was not a band. For a blog and a band are the creation of people. Now the people might be Christians and thus that pervades as it should do, every aspect of their lives, but the band and the blog are not in themselves follows of Christ.
But I digress, there were some weird and wonderful characters, some mighty fine beards, some verbose speeches (back atcha bro!), free food, free wine and I was completely underdressed! Although mrs church mouse; sitting next to me did point out that I was the only person wearing a hat. And back to the "point" of this blog; disappointment, on our table a chap who finished runner up last year got nothing, shame, the church mouse won and Dave was left with "nothing". The question that came to mind at that moment was which is worse?
Being disappointed or being disappointed at being disappointed?
Am sure Dave will forgive me for sharing all this, but he had no expectation of winning, and yet there was a teeny weeny bit of hope, hope, hope, and that hope was dashed. And Dave was left disappointed, but which was it, disappointment at not winning or the disappointment of thinking one had a chance and seeing that fail. (nb Dave you're not a failure!). I too must confess to being disappointed, seeing my friend lose and not really having any words to share. Am glad I was there with him, for him, cheered him, made facetious comments and giggled inappropriately with him. I would have smelled his glove if he had one.
So last night was bizarre. We ended up sneaking off early and missed the second half of the awards, missed some nuns winning a web award! Other random things, longer queue for the mens than the womens. Going to bed at midnight but not getting to sleep until 3am (you know who you are - and I'm not complaining at all!)
I could end with some vague platitudes, but I won't. Instead I will end with the words of Paul which put a lot of perspective on a disappointing evening which really wasn't:
"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. "
Amusingly this thorough recommendation is completely biased, the fact is I love Dave and would read his blog if it was utter tripe, however the fact is it's actually very good. It has wit, elegant prose, honesty, sincerity, asks big important questions but isn't afraid to meander into a trivilaity. And most importantly he does it for the right reasons. Not for fame, adulation, numbers, but because he wants to write and record some of the experiences he is going through.
Now I could go off on the tangent of what is a Christian blog, in a similar way as to what is a Christian band? I stick by the truth that the only things that can be called Christian are those who profess Jesus Christ as Lord, which the last time I checked was not a blog and was not a band. For a blog and a band are the creation of people. Now the people might be Christians and thus that pervades as it should do, every aspect of their lives, but the band and the blog are not in themselves follows of Christ.
But I digress, there were some weird and wonderful characters, some mighty fine beards, some verbose speeches (back atcha bro!), free food, free wine and I was completely underdressed! Although mrs church mouse; sitting next to me did point out that I was the only person wearing a hat. And back to the "point" of this blog; disappointment, on our table a chap who finished runner up last year got nothing, shame, the church mouse won and Dave was left with "nothing". The question that came to mind at that moment was which is worse?
Being disappointed or being disappointed at being disappointed?
Am sure Dave will forgive me for sharing all this, but he had no expectation of winning, and yet there was a teeny weeny bit of hope, hope, hope, and that hope was dashed. And Dave was left disappointed, but which was it, disappointment at not winning or the disappointment of thinking one had a chance and seeing that fail. (nb Dave you're not a failure!). I too must confess to being disappointed, seeing my friend lose and not really having any words to share. Am glad I was there with him, for him, cheered him, made facetious comments and giggled inappropriately with him. I would have smelled his glove if he had one.
So last night was bizarre. We ended up sneaking off early and missed the second half of the awards, missed some nuns winning a web award! Other random things, longer queue for the mens than the womens. Going to bed at midnight but not getting to sleep until 3am (you know who you are - and I'm not complaining at all!)
I could end with some vague platitudes, but I won't. Instead I will end with the words of Paul which put a lot of perspective on a disappointing evening which really wasn't:
"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. "
Wednesday, 16 September 2009
What Is Man That You Are Mindful Of Him?
This is a collection of some of the thoughts I have had today, I have not had to put them into any coherent manner.
Why is it that despite everything we (humanity) do God still loves us?
Does eating apples cancel out 3 chocolate bars?
If you want to be depressed, take a look around you, you will always be able to find something that can get you down.
If everyone took a look around them and did something then the world would be a better place.
I scored a hatrick this evening and still felt like I played rubbish.
Why am I wearing tights?
Why has my phone stopped working?
Why is it only a handful of people seem to do all the work?
When did I turn into my father - brightly coloured shirts and drinking copious amounts of tea!
What am I going to about what I see going on around me?
Why am I so selfish and lazy?
Why are Arsenal still so frustrating?
How come I am so blessed with so many wonderful friends?
Three nights on the trot is gone 1am and I'm still not asleep - not clever!
And it all came about because I was pondering the question what is man that you are mindful of him?
Why is it that despite everything we (humanity) do God still loves us?
Does eating apples cancel out 3 chocolate bars?
If you want to be depressed, take a look around you, you will always be able to find something that can get you down.
If everyone took a look around them and did something then the world would be a better place.
I scored a hatrick this evening and still felt like I played rubbish.
Why am I wearing tights?
Why has my phone stopped working?
Why is it only a handful of people seem to do all the work?
When did I turn into my father - brightly coloured shirts and drinking copious amounts of tea!
What am I going to about what I see going on around me?
Why am I so selfish and lazy?
Why are Arsenal still so frustrating?
How come I am so blessed with so many wonderful friends?
Three nights on the trot is gone 1am and I'm still not asleep - not clever!
And it all came about because I was pondering the question what is man that you are mindful of him?
Friday, 11 September 2009
The Day The World Changed
The day the world changed
Walls came crashing down
Thoughts of peace are lost
Amidst echoes of anguish
So many reasons to curse humanity
So many reasons to turn your back
Give up, give in, give over, give again.
The day the world changed
Death and Hades came down
My brothers forever lost
In battlefields and anguish
So many reasons to curse humanity
So many reasons to turn your back
Give up, give in, give over, give again.
The day the world changed
As love was nailed down
Son of heaven was thou lost
Forsaken cries in anguish
So many reasons to curse humanity
So many reasons to turn your back
Give up, give in, give over, give again.
Walls came crashing down
Thoughts of peace are lost
Amidst echoes of anguish
So many reasons to curse humanity
So many reasons to turn your back
Give up, give in, give over, give again.
The day the world changed
Death and Hades came down
My brothers forever lost
In battlefields and anguish
So many reasons to curse humanity
So many reasons to turn your back
Give up, give in, give over, give again.
The day the world changed
As love was nailed down
Son of heaven was thou lost
Forsaken cries in anguish
So many reasons to curse humanity
So many reasons to turn your back
Give up, give in, give over, give again.
Wednesday, 9 September 2009
nine nine nine
Wednesday 9th September 2009
09/09/09
nine nine nine
Numerical oddities. However in the words of a famous old soldier, don't panic, don't panic!
Let's hope today is not full of emergencies, but if there are, hallelujah for 999.
09/09/09
nine nine nine
Numerical oddities. However in the words of a famous old soldier, don't panic, don't panic!
Let's hope today is not full of emergencies, but if there are, hallelujah for 999.
Wednesday, 2 September 2009
Skinny Love is Nothing Special with Almost Lover
I find myself caught up in a whirlwind of emotions and so many things going on that I have I feel like a circus performer. Just one week ago I travelled up to Preston to be an Usher at my dear friends Dan and Jenn's wedding. A wonderful, uplifting and exhausting time it was too. I somehow ended up fulfilling a certain role which quite often heads my way, organising people, making myself heard and finally public speaking. However, the travails and chastening responsibilities of being so busy were a small price to pay for the happiness of the gorgeous couple and a glorious and memorable day.
In the midst of it all there have been a few scattered moments where I have had time for quiet reflection, some good and some not so. Three songs have grabbed my ear again, much like the first time I heard them and fell in love with them instantly. I can recall still recall those moments and where I was. Skinny Love by Bon Iver was while watching tv at my sisters on new years eve a couple of years ago. Almost Lover by A Fine Frenzy while watching CSI New York in my bedroom shortly after moving into the flat. And Nothing Special by David Marriott/As It Were in my parent's living room. All three have a certain honesty and melancholy that touches this romantic soul.
So since the wedding I had a crazy busy Sunday with a disappointing end, an oddly productive Monday, a very long and bizarre Tuesday, a tiring Wednesday and here I am on Thursday hoping my Dad can fix my PC, that Cyprus has good weather, that North Finchley behaves itself and that my friends are doing alright.
I also realised that over the last five years I have allowed my range of vocabulary to shrink quite considerably in efforts to be more concise (stop sniggering back there!) in certain areas of communication. This makes the creation of the written word in an eloquent form even more challenging. So if I start being more flowery than usual my apologies! And I thought I would end proceedings with one of my favourite words which shall be word of the week - malapropism.
In the midst of it all there have been a few scattered moments where I have had time for quiet reflection, some good and some not so. Three songs have grabbed my ear again, much like the first time I heard them and fell in love with them instantly. I can recall still recall those moments and where I was. Skinny Love by Bon Iver was while watching tv at my sisters on new years eve a couple of years ago. Almost Lover by A Fine Frenzy while watching CSI New York in my bedroom shortly after moving into the flat. And Nothing Special by David Marriott/As It Were in my parent's living room. All three have a certain honesty and melancholy that touches this romantic soul.
So since the wedding I had a crazy busy Sunday with a disappointing end, an oddly productive Monday, a very long and bizarre Tuesday, a tiring Wednesday and here I am on Thursday hoping my Dad can fix my PC, that Cyprus has good weather, that North Finchley behaves itself and that my friends are doing alright.
I also realised that over the last five years I have allowed my range of vocabulary to shrink quite considerably in efforts to be more concise (stop sniggering back there!) in certain areas of communication. This makes the creation of the written word in an eloquent form even more challenging. So if I start being more flowery than usual my apologies! And I thought I would end proceedings with one of my favourite words which shall be word of the week - malapropism.
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