Thursday, 19 February 2009

I ♥ Splott

On my way to work this morning I stopped to get some money out of the Co-op ATM, and had to wait while an older chav and his even older chav dad tried to take money out. They used every card they had, which were all refused, then called the machine a cunt. Now that isn't what annoyed me, what annoyed me was they asked for a receipt every time and then threw them on the floor without even looking at them.

Further down Habershon Street I stumbled upon an extinguished bonfire on the pavement. It looked like a few black bags full of someone's belongings had been set on fire. There were VHS cassettes, clothes, shoes; all charred, and burnt to the pavement and road. This was right outside someone's front door too.

Fair play, what a bunch of horrible bastards live round here. I'm so lucky to live here.

Happy walkman

My walkman was happier this morning; as I came into sight of work it started playing The's Bomb the Twist.
Rock 'n' roll!


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Tuesday, 17 February 2009

Psychic walkman

As I turned the corner and saw my office, my clever walkman started playing Portishead's Sour Times.
Oh how I laughed!


Monday, 16 February 2009

Same meme

As I'm having such a fucking horrible day, I thought I'd post another favourite poem (in a vain attempt to cheer myself up).

Harold Monro - Overheard on a Saltmarsh

Nymph, nymph, what are your beads?

Green glass, goblin. Why do you stare at them?

Give them me.

Give them me. Give them me.

Then I will howl all night in the reeds,
Lie in the mud and howl for them.

Goblin, why do you love them so?

They are better than stars or water,
Better than voices of winds that sing,
Better than any man's fair daughter,
Your green glass beads on a silver ring.

Hush, I stole them out of the moon.

Give me your beads, I desire them.

I will howl in the deep lagoon
For your green glass beads, I love them so.
Give them me. Give them me.

Another meme...

...when you see this, post your favourite poem.

I nicked this from Sheenagh Pugh's blog.

My favourite poem changes daily, and my tastes oscillate wildly between dead poets and contemporary writers, but h
ere's two I can more or less recite by heart.

Philip Larkin - Home is so Sad

Home is so sad. It stays as it was left,
Shaped to the comfort of the last to go
As if to win them back. Instead, bereft
Of anyone to please, it withers so,
Having no heart to put aside the theft

And turn again to what it started as,
A joyous shot at how things ought to be,
Long fallen wide. You can see how it was:
Look at the pictures and the cutlery.
The music in the piano stool. That vase.


Sylvia Plath - Mushrooms

Overnight, very
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly

Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.

Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.

Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,

Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,

Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes. We

Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking

Little or nothing.
So many of us!
So many of us!

We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meek,
We are edible,

Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.
Our kind multiplies:

We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot's in the door.

Wednesday, 11 February 2009

Last day

I won't pretend I'm not super happy to be going home, I can't wait to see Patrick, my friends, my house, my job and all that again, but I have to say goodbye to James and T again - and this is a big one. It will be years before I see them again.
I've had a wicked time, and seen some amazing places, and been to a fantastic wedding. I have loved it - but it's time to go home now, all inspired, creative and flowy of juices!

New Zealand is raining today, like it's sad we're going.

Last full day in NZ

Well here it is, the end of the holiday. We're going into Wellington tomorrow and dropping off the car by 5, then flying at about 8pm. It will take about 24 hours to fly home (via LA) and then I'll be back in Cardiff around 4pm on Friday. I am SO excited to see Patrick that I can hardly stop myself from crying. I've missed him so much, and that teary phone call on his bithday was horrible. He made me promise to never go anywhere, ever again. So I promised.

Wednesday, 4 February 2009

South Island

Well, today is our last full day on the South Island, and marks the end of the busy part of the holiday. We're sailing back up north tomorrow, and the wedding is on Saturday the 7th. After the wedding we're just going to bum around looking at Lord of the Rings locations before flying home on the 12th.
I'm having a great time, but I'm really homesick now. This is the longest and furthest I've ever been away from home and the ones I love, and it's quite difficult, I don't mind admitting.
It's Waitangi day on the 6th, but more importantly for me - it's Patrick's birthday on the 6th. I'm so gutted I'm not there to be celebrating it with him, I'm counting on his friends and family to make sure he has a good time, and I've made sure that I'm back in Wales for Valentine's day!
He wrote in an email to me that this time apart has been good, as his feelings have grown even stronger. So, yes, I ended up crying over another email!
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