Home Sweet Home...

I have spent the last two months with my Sister in Crawley. Now, I am home. Back to Warrington.
Here is a photographic list of things that I did...

I worked as a waitress in Pizza Express, Reigate, and attempted to perfect latte art... Still working on that! As a waitress my most asked questions were:
Q. Where abouts in Yorkshire are you from?
A. I'm not, I'm from Cheshire.
Q. How do you cope when it is so busy?
A. The truth? I don't I panic. I black out, go into auto pilot and come around at about 3.30, when it quietens down, feeling strangely elated.
Q. If I give you this tip do you get to keep it?
A. Yes, hand it over!
I also served Shane Richie, he ate a Leggera Contadina, gave me a £3.50 tip and enjoyed calling
me "darlin'". I refrained from asking for his autograph.

I witnessed my nephews heartbeat and helped to compile a shortlist of names. My favourite was Dylan, as in Bob Dylan, Dylan Thomas and Dylan from the Magic Roundabout, couldn't name a child after a better bunch. I have recently found out this name is no longer on the shortlist. Other names I wished they would have considered include, Neptune, Hades, Hermes and Apollo.

I went to explore Brighton three times. I found a bohemian area with many street markets.

Played (f)unfair games.

Became fascinated with the pier. How many feet have trodden these planks? When will they fade away and become weak? When will all these rides and amusements plummet to the sea's bed? An under water funfair. A new Atlantis. A little like that film A.I.

Ate fish and chips on the beach after fantasising about doing such a thing since last Christmas.

Found a reissue of Velvet Underground and Nico LP, COMPLETE WITH PEELABLE BANANA! As well as adding to my Bowie on LP collection. Andrew and I's new favorite thing to do is buy LPs. It is nice to share a hobby.

Entered one of my books into a competition.

Went on many, many, train journeys. To Bristol, to Brighton, to London.

Discovered a River Island window display not too dissimilar to my Secret History project. Even the same head. £15 ebay? Really spending the big bucks there aren't you River?

On a walk through Notting Hill with Lucy Vann, we stumbled upon George Orwell's House. We took this as a sign. We have to move there.

When Lucy and I take London, we do not take photos of monuments, no. We take pictures of eerie train tunnels. I like to think I put a full stop to her European adventure with Libby Scarlett.

Finally, on my way home, I went to a slightly unconventional wedding in Derbyshire (which turned out slightly more conventional than I had expected but was lovely all the same). It was my auntie and new but actually kind of old uncle's (in that he has been around for 18 years and we have always called him uncle) wedding. I was in charge of the music. These were the songs that were included in the ceremony...
I Will - The Beatles
Song Bird - Which my cousin, Dominic, performed to a backing track
Burlington Arcade - Rick Wakeman
Followed by a garden party with Pimms and Sangria to a mixture of the Gipsy Kings and Salsa! Salsa! Salsa!
Then we ate Hog Roast. Poor pig.

In the morning we gathered in a stripped Marquee and feasted on bacon croissants . Enough for fifty people.
I returned home to a water bill from my previous house in Manchester, and a hand written envelope. In the top right hand corner there was a stamp which stated the country from which it had departed, "Prague". It was a Birthday gift from my good friends Lucy Vann and Libby Scarlett. It was full of joy and forgotten memories and made me happy. Thanks guys! There was a postcard within which contained a thoughtful poem I could truly appreciate and relate to.
"Bongo the monkey sits in a tree
the happiest monkey you'll ever see
In his spare time he plays the guitar
one of these days he'll be a big star!"
This poem belonged to one of Lucy's beanie baby toys from when she was a little person. He shared my birthday. I am impressed she was able to remember. Happy belated brithday Bongo. Hope you are living the rock and roll dream.

Last night I sat alone in Sandbar with a glass of red and a Moleskine. The jukebox played The Pixies and Nico. It felt like home.

1 comment:

Lucy Vann said...


i just recited the poem to my mum, from memory. she just said to me "you're weird. how did you remember all that? fucking hell you're weird.... you are though aren't you?"

yes that's bongo alright. what a lovely blog post. and not just because of the beanie baby. x