Friday, 17 July 2015

My secrets soft and hid.

Red headed and vibrant
wrists as delicate as glass
the nape of her neck a tideline

Flicking back through the pages
the italics hidden in plain sight
it is no revelation
But at the time
that girl took me by surprise

Draped in men's clothing
her lips were petals
the slip of her body a pale ribbon
A long-limbed confusion

She was a complete stranger to me

Monday, 9 January 2012

An element of.

That boy took me by surprise.
Curdled cream gets washed away
and he's a complete stranger to me.
But by his question he says he
doesn't just look, but sees.
I'm elbow-high in suds, wide eyed.
And he took me by surprise.

That boy took me by surprise.
He stopped what I was going to say
and he's just that one move ahead.
He pulls me out from under the bed,
see the path I've lead.
I'm under a lit match, wide eyed.
And he took me by surprise.

That boy took me by surprise.
I'm dressed in black today
and he's noone I'll ever know.
But he's pulling me against the flow,
where I lead, he'll go.
I'm frost-bitten, wide eyed.
And he took me by surprise.

Thursday, 15 December 2011







Wednesday, 14 December 2011

Packing, yay!

I just walked home from the bank with 980euros in my pocket. You know that feeling you get when you're carrying rather alot of money that everyone's watching you? Just like, everyone knows..? Yup. Not a walk I want to repeat.
The girl at the bank today asked if I've started packing. My answer was that I'd piled all the clothes I _want_ to be able to take on a chair, looked at it and went, "Heh. That's too many." ...Then left it. She looked up from her screen, laughed politely and said something along the lines of, "When are you leaving again? Tomorrow? Hmm, yes, better start that packing properly!" This is the bank clerk talking. I felt like I'd failed at a bit of life. Which wasn't a fun feeling to have with 980euros in my pocket.
I admit it freely though - I am not a good packer. I always overpack the wrong things. Like, too many clothes and then I forget my toothbrush, or my key. Or I remember my mp3 player and my book, but forget to write down my train times, or check if my phone's charged. When I went to my friend's Uni for three nights I managed a normal sized bag, but stuffed it so full that it exploded all over her room when I got there. And I ended up discovering I had one whole outfit too many, but I'd forgotten the mini sewing kit I was going to take with me so I could finish off her Christmas present. Needless to say, then, my sister is checking my packing-list to work out- wait. Wait just a minute. I was going to say that my sister (the sensible packing one) is checking my list and will be checking (and rechecking times infinity, probably) the suitcase, but I'm no longer sure I need to get her to do that. There's been all this "Be thrifty, no you may not take a party dress unless you can wear it during the day too!" thing, but she's just said she wants to take at least three towels...
I think I'm just gonna muddle on without. Worst comes to the worst, my hand luggage will be oversized and heavy, and I'll probably forget to take a towel at all and have to buy one. Nevermiiind. As long as I don't forget tickets, passport, or plane times (I will tattoo reminders on my hands if need be), and don't leave my suitcase anywhere (has nearly been done before), I reckon that even if I trip over my own feet when getting on the plane, the holiday will go fine. In the end, I'm with my girlfriends, and they'll be there to give me a boost (or a slap round the back of my head) if need be. I can always rely on them to bail me out of packing/organising-fail trouble.
... Right, girls?

Thursday, 1 December 2011

Pinch punch first of the month, no returns!

Wednesday, 30 November 2011

The plans of a English-German girl.

So I've restarted one of my other blogs! It's been revamped as "The Diary of an Apple Waitress." Sounds a bit boring, huh? Maybe it's only me that gets kicks out of other people's oddnesses, but for those who are interested, take a look!

Other news, hmm. Well let's go for... Christmas! Yes, it's not December yet, and usually I don't start feeling Christmassy till at the earliest Decemeber the first, but I've been planning a Christmassy holiday, so it's hard for all that Christmassy planning not to rub off a bit of excitement on me (That's alot of Christmassys). Some of my girlfriends and I are going on our first ever group holiday to Berlin for week, to revel in the German weirdnesses (Man, have I been missing those), to soak in the Berlin sights, and to explore the Weihnachtsmarkte! (That's Christmas Markets to all you British folk.) I haven't been to Berlin for nearly two years, and I have missed it.

Some odd facts about that great city:
- You hardly ever see anyone with an mp3 player. When my sister and I were there last, we spotted only six in the whole week.
- It's populated mostly by people of a Turkish descent (Berlin is one of the biggest Turkish citys in the world), which means that a natural blonde is very, very rare. Which earns me alot of stares.
- It's dirty. In summer, you can run your finger along a centimeter of wall, and your finger will come away literally black. The shower water tends to end up a delightful grey colour. Think of London, then times by two.
- There's a currywurst (spicy sausages) stand on literally every second corner. They give you your currywurst slathered in paprika ketchup, with a white roll, and you can get a black coffee to go with it. Sooo yummy. And there's at least one bakery for every two streets, and at least one kebab shop for every block. Crepe stands are pretty popular too.
- When Germans have a sweet section in a proper supermarket, it's not just half a shelf unit. It's at least one full shelf unit (usually two), floor to ceiling, an aisle long, stacked with chocolates and sweets.
- In Germany (odd fact out, but it's weird), chocolate is primarily a summer thing, rather than a winter thing like in England.
- Berlin isn't half-hearted about its Wiehnachtsmarkte. They'll close off streets if they have to, lining them with dozens of small wooden huts, decorated with fake snow (if it isn't already snowing - sometimes even if it is) and strung with fairy lights. The markets smell of roasted and sugared nuts, which you can buy inn paper cones, caramalised grapes (rather than toffee apples) and mulled wine.
- German's have an awesome tradtional meet-up called Cafe und Kuchen which - instead of afternoon tea - is basically Coffee and Cakes. Germans will invite half a dozen friends over at about three or four o'clock, and they'll sit down for a good few hours of hobnobbing over a table groaning with cakes and pastries (you rememeber I said about all those bakeries..?) and will drink copious amounts of coffee through out. For me, a non-tea-drinker, this is an ultimate afternoon treat.

Ah yes, that wonderful, ridiculous city. And this time, I'm planning on joining my friends in doing the complete tourist thing. When we went before, it was mainly to see family, but this time I'm planning on learning and soaking up my German heritage as much as I can. This will include trips to the Holocaust Memorial and the Brandenburg Gate, another visit to Checkpoint Charlie, and of course all the markets. But also will include sampling the Berlin nightlife. Which, going by reports from friends, should be interesting... Roll on the 16th!
(That's alot of parentheses too.)

Wednesday, 9 November 2011

she built a blanket fort

So I have an edit for you - my blanket fort poem, now complete with a photo! Elou from ElouCarroll Photography, also known as KeyChild, helped me bring my poem to life. The "blanket fort" was constructed, the fairylights strung, and the red balloon aquired. And Elou added the magic :)

in a blanket fort constructed from fragile sheets of securities,
padded out inside with cushions of collected comforts,
the little girl curls in the love-light of the lamp through the fabric
and puts her hands over her ears to block out the rage of reality.
if she squeezes her eyes shut in her creatively constructed cocoon,
bites her lips together and hums a childhood lullaby,
the notes will add a throbbing bass of bars to her security.
she's hiding from the adult road to adolescence,
the years of awkward promised pretence before a foothold is found.
in her childish dreams she doesn't have to walk that way.
she thinks she's found a safe-place, and so she sings in her sleep.
tangled between her fingers she holds the string of a red balloon.
her gift to her grandchildren. if she can hold it that long.
the fairy lights above her head pretend to be stars.