Monday, 28 December 2009

want these



Have been sales shopping today but bought nothing. Not sure who thinks there's a recession in the UK as the city centre was manic. Now pretend I've written something about consumerism never being satisified here, with a wry smile about how lost humanity is. Don't pretend you didn't shudder at the repetitive smug vitriol therein.

All that to say - I want those boots.

Friday, 18 December 2009


"You're the worst kind of high maintenance. You think you're low maintenance but you're not." EA has told me this more times than I care to remember. It's whip-smart true, a rising welt of character assassination.

I repeat this to my boyfriend (perhaps we should name him) as I follow him up the stairs in a book shop, searching for a long-ordered vegetarian cookbook. I fall over my own feet and a step and as he rolls his eyes I stumble upright and regret the truth of the statement.

He replies You're not high maintenance.
"She meant emotionally."
...Well, yes.

But, I would be fascinated to meet the person who is unguarded from the first instant, always. Who doesn't measure themselves out, dose by dose, seemingly relaxed but judging every movement minute message.

And now we are here, and giving of yourself is comfortable, in a manner.
And it is good, despite the gift.

Wednesday, 9 December 2009

it's definitely nearly the end of term

Exchange between two of my favourite lawyer friends on facebook:

Italian Friend: better than fucking allotment and transfer of fucking shares! the whole class was hangovered from a late night at [name of nasty student club] and we got told off by head of department...yes!

excuse my French.
CW: excuse your English. Hangovered?!?
IF: sorry mate. It's street English, yo!
Me: :D

Tuesday, 24 November 2009


All that preening about exercising and eating right and I've just scoffed half a big bag of Malteasers.

Oh my God I don't want to do my coursework.

Sunday, 22 November 2009


Just read in a Sunday paper magazine (anonymous because its shameful I was reading it):
"Count your stretch marks and measure them."

Er, no. Why would you do that? What a bizarre thing to encourage women to do. The author goes on to advise that if the marks multiply you should use some pricey cream.

I find it quite frightening, this focus on imperfections. I am vain, and that will never change, but I'm certainly not going to breed despair by documenting my flaws. If I had to choose a least favourite body part, it would be my stomach, every time, but I'm not prepared to do anything more than I already do to change it. Besides, it doesn't bother anybody BUT ME, and that's only marginal.

I've done my time with disordered eating and warped body image, and I've come out the other side in relatively good mental shape. I love how I look and I work to maintain that, but its the way I feel that makes it worth it. It feels wonderful to be fit and eat well.

There are so many positives about my body. Why would I let the negative rule?

Thursday, 19 November 2009


There's a bit in the second Bridget Jones book (er, or the movie) where she's discussing how horrible Mark Darcy is. She's in the Thai jail with all those women singing Madonna and they tell her about boyfriends who beat them. And then she feels silly.

I feel silly.

The course I have to do this year I am finding more interesting than last year's. It is just that there is not enough of it to fill my working week. Three hours of college four days a week is hardly full time, and this is the "busy" part of the year. From February I only have to be in three days a week. The homework they give us is mostly asinine (apart from this thing about shares that I haven't got a fucking clue about) and besides, who wants to be doing homework when you're 23?

I'm bored out of my mind. I'm getting all control freak-y about things like washing and going to the gym and keeping my room tidy. This isn't good for me, and it isn't good for my relationship. Here it manifests in jealousy that my boyfriend having a good time, and irritation that my long evenings of nothing can't be filled with him.

One of the things I love most about him is that he's brilliant at keeping in touch. There is no reason at all to be needy. Fortunately I think I've got a grip on myself in time.

But I still feel silly.

Tuesday, 17 November 2009

things I like about this horrible city

My gym. I like it a lot. I don't want to move away from it next year.
My yoga teacher.
Old friends only minutes away.
Ravenscourt Park.
Ravensourt Park tube station.
Long walks along the South Bank.
Borough Market.
The City at weekends, empty of people and full of closed cafes.
Late at the Tate.
The BM.
The reassuring noise of the aeroplanes.
Paddington station.
The beautiful brick Pavilion on the green, sadly disused.
Gloucester Road tube station, with all the moody lighting and artwork.
Whole Foods.
Being able to wear anything at all because you'll never be the weirdest person on the street.
Waterstones on Gower Street.
Hyde Park/St James Park/most other central parks.
Breakfast out.
Westfield (shhhh).

I hope you're proud, boyfriend.

Sunday, 8 November 2009

I will never love London

I went to a fireworks party on Thursday in Finsbury. That was the good part, the wine and the sparklers and the fifteen girls screaming in unison as the boys lit roman candles under a big tree.
Then I stood at a bus stop for forty minutes, watching four buses sail past, the smell of dope from the man smoking a spliff ten feet from me turning my stomach, a memory of a bad night two years ago.

I made a telephone call and bitched about it.
"If bloody Boris had a daughter [just wikipedia'd that and, er, he has two] do you think he'd be okay with her standing on her own in North London for nearly an hour?"
Hadn't heard about him chasing off the Oiks in Camden at that point.

Eventually a friend turned up and we got lost together while he berated me about wandering around on my own at night.

I am rubbish at living in London. There is so much to do but I have no money to do it. When I do have money to do it, I will no longer have any time, apparently.

I have a horrible cold and this is a horrible city.

Wednesday, 4 November 2009

stuff on my desk

photo of my sister aged 15
blank valentine's card
fitness first timetable
Guardian article about boyfriend
incomprehensible science paper written by above
an "Alternative Personal Statement" composed by friends when aged 17
birthday card from Economics teacher
diary that looks scarily like Gideon Bible
two lamps that don't work
photo of EA on D of E giving the camera the finger
photo of AL in graduation gown
list of "Things What Are Large" produced at 21st birthday party
postcard with bird labelled "Mystic Tit"
calendar with mock exams in orange highlighter
pile of Civil Litigation work I am going to do now

Friday, 23 October 2009


As my friend PC puts his feelings about the BNP's appearance on Question Time last night: 'They're wankers. We knew that.' He thinks we should all go and do something other than twitter about it.

He's right, but a little late. Why did anyone even watch Nick Griffin last night? If you know he's a fascist, and you don't agree with it, why even give his opinions the time of day? I'm all for free speech but you're just as free to choose what you listen to.

The best thing anyone can possibly do now is use their vote against the BNP. Vote Lib Dem, if you must (sorry, boyfriend). Watching Nick Griffin defend racism is hardly anything to feel smug and informed about.

Wednesday, 7 October 2009

nobody at the gym is cool

Oh my God, man on the cross trainer flapping his arms. Are you trying to fly? It can't be that awful.

Irrational creeping hatred for Paolo from yoga class as he gets on the treadmill in his stupid too-short tracksuit bottoms.

I look like a total dick when I run.

Thankfully, so does everybody else

Tuesday, 6 October 2009

under the

I've bought the new Basement Jaxx album. It's on, now. I can't think of another band whose new releases I've always rushed to buy.

Miss McG influenced my musical expansion, third year university finally tumbling into albums I must have loved subconsciously before. I saw her on Sunday, hesistant and pretty (vintage says MM) in the Cambridge sunshine.

Today I sat in a conveyancing seminar and put together fragments of what she'd said, stitching her words with thoughts of my own and missing that year with an empty stomach ache.

Remembering PC saying you just don't care what people think. Until he said it I had no idea it was true. Now, it doesn't seem so accurate. I'm not sure what changed.

I miss parts of myself.

Saturday, 26 September 2009


My. Even THM has started posting again.

I have written nothing this summer. I left my notebook at home when we went to Spain. Granada and the Alhambra are lost to memory.

Yesterday; Hyde Park, 99 Flake, the Memorial Fountain. The water was clear cold. Later we cook a meal we ate on holiday, and then you watch the terrible programme I love and spin me around the half landing in happy mockery of my delight.

I can't get enough of you, my chin on your sharp collarbone.

I have written nothing because all I want to write is you. And who wants to read that but me?

Monday, 22 June 2009


So, for reasons unknown, I've been behaving like a total bitch recently. I thought it was exam stress, but, no, exams are done now. Overtired? Certainly, but that doesn't account for being a twat last night. Or on Friday, over a sodding dress. What the hell.

Just resolving to get on with it and stop being ridiculous. I think it's the change thing, sad all over again at a departure that isn't my own. (But it is, in a way, losing all connection to the city I love better than any other).


Working a law firm in Bristol for the week. Loved the first day, and I hadn't expected to. I was awake until gone five am worrying about it. See, ridiculous.

Sunday, 17 May 2009

and another

I went out last night, and danced in a club with a sticky floor and a weird DJ. It was spontaneous and funny and oh my, I really haven't heard a set list like that since a long gone family wedding.

We were celebrating a friend's birthday. A year ago I wrote about her twenty first, and reading that post now I remember the fizz of happiness I felt that weekend. I didn't think things could get any better, and I was right, in a way. The last weeks in Bristol were wonderful, but they were also heartbreaking.

And so, it is now two years since my fall. This year has been interesting. The oddest thing is that I haven't left the country since August. I am on the verge of booking flights for a summer holiday, and I cannot wait to feel the heat of Spain. Law has been, er, a melodramatic transition. I have met someone pretty incredible.

It has been a good year.

Wednesday, 13 May 2009

possibly submitted it in a drunken stupor

Just got an e-mail from a law firm thanking me for my application, and letting me know they'd be contacting me soon with a decision.

I do not remember submitting this application.

I wonder what was on it.

Sunday, 10 May 2009


Pimms and an early night to doze in front of Maverick and Goose. He nudges me awake during 'select homoerotic scenes' (his words, not mine).

The movie finishes and he turns the laptop off. I look up from the bed and he is wearing aviators. I laugh until my stomach aches and he kisses me to shut me up.

Thursday, 7 May 2009


A favourite blogger has been describing her break up. Her experience wrenches horrible familiarity in me.

I am too scared to write about him, despite eighteen months distance.

I am exhausted today. I have been short with my flatmates all week. I cannot concentrate.

I wrote more than this, originally. I cannot post it. Perhaps this will be catharsis enough.

Thursday, 30 April 2009

things I wish I'd said to the man harrassing me as I browsed in Ann Summers

Man "Natural is better." [bonus: guess what I was looking at].

What I Didn't Say:
"Not with you."
"I'm not sure your wife would agree."
"My girlfriend and I don't think so."

Feel free to contribute.

PS: apologies for surfeit of sex posts.

Monday, 27 April 2009


I went to buy lined paper today, for revision season is upon us.

As I left the shop, a man came up to me; tall, black, hot.
He wanted to tell me I was the prettiest girl he'd seen in two weeks.

Precision aside (bizarre), I smile and say thank you, because, well, he isn't a weird Hispanic bloke.
"I'm moving to America tomorrow" he continues; "I work in the adult film industry."
I got propositioned for a porn job in WH Smiths.

Saturday, 11 April 2009

christos anesti

He's not, actually. He won't rise for another week if you're following the Greek calendar. It's Lazarus Saturday today.

I have only spent one Easter in Cyprus, but it remains a strong memory. I was ten or so. Bright, white heat, stone beaches and rabbit filled cages in the back yard. My parents worried over the clothes we wore to the Easter procession, and church. I wore shorts, in the end; clearly I must have been young enough for it not to matter.

We kissed the plastic covering the icons and shuffled around the cool floors. Years later I'd lean down to kiss the brass plaque on an Uncle's coffin in London and the sting of incense, the brewing quiet rumble of emotion would make my mind flicker back to the coloured gilt of the Cyprus church. In the car I'd listen to T-Rex and think about my relatives crossing themselves.

Happy Easter.
Christos anesti; alithos anesti. (Soon).

Wednesday, 1 April 2009


Would be quite the joke to actually post, don't you think?

Two days until college finishes. I have pages of notes from tube journeys spent staring.

Am fine. More soon.

Sunday, 15 March 2009


Got a non-pfo (why not just say acceptance? who knows; I'm tired) the day after. Happiness ensued.

This weekend was the warmest so far this year. I squeeze my child-bearing hips (cheers, ma) through the window and we sit on the stone balcony. Bickering about schooling and commenting on the girls walking past the afternoon slips away and it seems seconds since I arrived.

I return to London with renewed enthusiasm and a shadowed shape of a plan.

Wednesday, 11 March 2009


I don't even want to be a lawyer.

Not surprised, but rather fed up.

Wednesday, 4 March 2009

oh my god


Mom jeans? Really? Topshop, these are not a "new" shape. Go away. GO AWAY.

Monday, 2 March 2009


Despite the fact I do not currently own a camera, I want to add 'take more photographs' to my resolutions for this year. A few years ago (where has that gone) I remember saying the same words to my ex, leafy streets in Bristol, sunlit.

Sat beside the pond in Hyde Park this weekend we watch the swans: I would not get that close says my West Country past as a tourist creeps up. Feathered neck will break yours.

(more) mock exams next week but again I keep typing cryptic nonsense.

Restless; shortly to the gym to run it out.

Tuesday, 17 February 2009

hello, boys

Do some work.

Monday, 16 February 2009

v day

you are very hard to read
there is a frown on my lower lip (in my mind) am I?
pensive... is the same as content. is the same as sad.

no frown then ...I practice ...
... I have been called an emotional retard...
laugh you are not
I am just bad at talking...
... I am trying

ignoring my tightening chest, head on his elbow as he reads the poem I had been reluctant to reveal

I am glad I gave you those words
(I wonder if you know there are more here for you)

Wednesday, 11 February 2009


SHD tagged me to do this on fb. I am not sure whether it is more or less narcissistic to post it here instead.

Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.

1. I just dug out some very rusty html skills to write that SHD link above, as Blogger's hyperlink thing appears to be unwell. I am quite pleased I got it right first time.
2. Writing is my passion. What a fucking stupid statement; probably the truest thing I've ever posted.
3. Dried apricots are THE FOOD OF THE DEVIL.
4. I don't tell anyone anything, though I pretend to. I am not particularly proud of this.
5. I worry about how I compare intellectually, not physically.
6. I am fantastically vain, however.
7. I have made every major decision in my life (degree course, University city, postgrad study, etc) at the last possible minute.
8. Conversely, I stress about everyday situations far too much.
9. I know the calorie content of pretty much everything.
10. I loathe running. I do it anyway.
11. I wish I looked nice in cream. The colour, not the foodstuff.
12. I have a disproportionate number of good, gay, male friends.
13. I have two birthmarks; one on my right thigh, one behind my left ear. The second one isn't particularly attractive.
14. The most acute pain I have experienced was breaking a rib. The memory of it, and the sound it made, makes me cringe.
15. This has taken me three days so far, and I am only at 15. I overthink.
16. In moments of hating my degree, I always wished I'd read English.
17. I have been skydiving, but I'd never bungy (sp?) jump.
18. I get Diet Coke cravings, especially when hungover.
19. My hangovers are monstrous, and last all day.
20. Seriously, I'm out of pointless rubbish to tell you. There are five more to do. Feel free.

Tuesday, 3 February 2009

total non-post

Was halfway through writing a post about my favourite tramp but it got a bit too twee; woeful charity. I saw a man stop to hold a conversation with the back bumper of a car today, prompting the bout of condescension.

Am pretty happy and balanced at the moment. This has been the best start to a new year that I can remember; there are recent photographs of me where my smile has eaten my top lip. They also indicate that I badly need a haircut.

Oh dear. What disconnected, pointless paragraphs. It was that, or tell you about how indescribably hot I found watching my boyfriend do something (I have fuck all idea what but it involved looking purposeful and clever) in the lab last Friday. I've dabbled in some weird fetishes but never thought science would be one.

Monday, 2 February 2009

snow day

College is cancelled. I have a reasonable excuse not to leave the house today; we do, though, to play in the snow. The strange man next door stands beside his recycling bag full of Kronenburg cans and throws snowballs at us. One slides down my neck.

Snowfall. Remembering the late sweet daze of Friday night, I could say so much, did I dream it? All of it?

Confident I reached to you.
(I did not dream it).

On the train, I write the line from the ee cummings poem that makes me cry.

Snowfall; no sound. Bleak, content weather.

Sunday, 18 January 2009

warning: contains words

Just seen an advert for the new Will Smith movie. The trailer makes it clear that it contains Scenes of Strong Emotion. Or something. I had no idea what the film was about, but Wikipedia helped with that and my, does it sound like a depressing little jaunt.

So. When you know the movie is about the deaths of seven people and the title character's subsequent self-flagellation, do you really need the warning?

On another note of bemused complaint, what is Channel Four trying to do with this Christianity series? This week's episode, presented by Michael Portillo, doesn't really make any sense. He's meant to be talking about Rome but they can't really decide whether they want to do the ancient or the modern.

Other news: I've been carrying my notebook and writing, a lot. Just need to translate that into real posts. The space between my tits hurts because I wore an ill-fitting bra for too long yesterday. Really quite tired. Can you tell?

Thursday, 8 January 2009

working on it

Had a brief, I love London moment today. Unexpectedly, it was on the bus. Transport in the city usually makes me snarl.

Asked for trouble by sitting next to an Italian in tight white jeans. Instead, I became surrounded by more Italians, a couple of Russians; a Thai girl, someone speaking French. Telephone calls. I was almost somewhere else.

Itchy feet.

Tuesday, 6 January 2009


Dear Auntie Jean/Granny/Weird Uncle,

Thank you very much for my [usually money]. I have already hit the sales [because I had to escape the crushing weight of all the food and old people in the house] and have treated myself to a new sweater [actually from the Maternity section of Topshop, which caused slight consternation at home]. I will have to visit the shops again when the crowds have disappeared to see what else I can find! [as I am actually going to blow all the cash on a corset].

We had a quiet Christmas with family [if "quiet" entails Boxing Day Massacre of squirrels by Grandad, with shotgun] and I spent New Year at home with friends from University, which was great fun. [And it was so]. Mum and Dad were a big help on the night with all the food and preparation, and we were all pretty tired the next day! [For me, principally because I was up until the sun rose fucking my boyfriend].

I am looking forward to getting back to London now [LIES] though not so much to my exams. [couldn't give a fuck. I mean, I'm blogging about thank you letters instead of revising]. Hopefully they will be better than I expect! [they won't be].

Thank you again [for your contribution to my journey through the shops of Soho].

With love [especially from my boyfriend, who is delighted I'm spending a ridiculous amount of money on something that is essentially for his enjoyment],


Friday, 2 January 2009

to do


1. Start carrying notebook again/write more/just start the bloody book, etc.
2. Get job.
3. Attempt to boost 'love' part of love/hate relationship with stupid London.
4. Stop being useless about seeing friends who live/work within few miles of self.
5. Stop relying on Bridget Jones-esque entries to disable feeling of guilt about not writing.

Merry 2009.