Wednesday, August 25, 2004

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage which we did not take, towards the door we never opened Into the rose-garden. - T. S. Eliot
Remembrances, for no other reason than having had a quiet week to reflect and indulge in warm and fuzzy thoughts.

- During lunch during my holiday week, my brother, mother and father were recalling the mornings in their flat in NW London when my big sister and brother were very small children, looking out of the window with mother at a perfect view of the train station, waving to father who would be standing on the platform, waiting for his train to work, waving back in silhouette...

- Reading The Wasteland in the hot, red, dusty hills in Crete the summer before I was due to start my degree at Cambridge, and feeling like I was entering a whole new world

- Waking up in the middle of the night in my old bedroom in Brixton, realising with a sinking heart that I had woken again because I was shaking so badly in my sleep from the cold; it was a miserable winter in a room that was impossible to heat up and I would sit at my computer trying to type, feeling my frozen fingers creak and crawl across the keys

- coming back from University for the Easter break in my first year, desperate to see my family and sleep in my own bed again and being greeted by my father who said he had a present for me and I went apprehensively to the dining table where he said he had left it, expecting perhaps an unfortunate jumper with a puppy embroidered on the front or - I dunno, a good Chinese boy village-stock husband, and instead finding two bottle sof vodka and a small pot of caviar

- lying on top of the hill in Cambridge with my head on Former Flatmate A's tummy whose head was resting on M.W's tummy whose head was resting on Taxloss' tummy whose head was resting on mine, the four of us staring up at a crazy full yellow moon that was lilting as drunkenly in the sky as we were on the ground

I could go on. But instead, I invite you to add a nice remembrance in the comments below.

In other news, I have finally purchased: Something Rotten by Jasper Fforde, fourth book in his hugely enjoyable Thursday Next series. In the run up to the release of this fourth book, I've re-read the previous three in double-quick time and am galloping through most delightfully. Huzzah!



http://www.queermusicheritage.com/camp.html

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