29 February, 2012. 5.19 pm I left work to light some candles and change into a dress. The same one I wore for the first party Sarge and I threw together. 5.40 CJ kindly spent the evening in the living room so my PA could set a path of pebbles from the front door to the bedroom. I stayed put, with a cup of coffee and a candy ring. 6.01 Sarge texted to say he was doing Senior Software Geek…
When I was a kid, people were always telling me to ‘have patience’. I thought it was some kind of gift, one that I’m still waiting for. And I’m not good with waiting. Well, that’s not necessarily true. There’s a part of me that likes to burn candles and incense and become as blissed out as someone who is into that sort of thing. Because I am into that sort of thing. But I also think sleep is a waste…
It would be more than safe to say that I like books. I love books. I greatly esteem books. Sarge says I eat them. I buy clothes when I need them, or every three years, whichever rolls around first. I buy or trade books once a week. And then I go to the library. A few years ago, I set myself a goal to ‘visit all the bookshops in the world.’ Lofty goals are the truest ones. I’ve been doing…
Edinburgh — Peterborough – Cambridge — Peterborough — Edinburgh We boarded the train with two backpacks, my butterfly bag and George Bailey-Penguin, our travel mascot. I like train travel, and have come to accept the sometimes not-so-faint whiff of piss as part of the journey. This time, I ignored it by reading Three To Get Deadly and eating chocolate-covered popcorn. One hundred and fifty pages and an empty bag later, we arrived in Peterborough to catch the train to Cambridge. …
Regular readers will know that my boyfriend sometimes wears a kilt and walks around with a knife in his sock, in the name of Scottish traditional dress. His 90 year-old Gran recently requested that he get fully decked out to attend her birthday dinner, and he obliged. With a little help. Last April, he bought a full kilt when friends of ours got married. He wore the jacket and my father’s tweed waist-coat. This caused me to get all misty-eyed…
