Don't you just love arguing online with the relatives?
No? Nor do I. *Sigh*.
Tuesday, October 28, 2003
Friday, October 24, 2003
A book! A book in the post from my friend. It's called 'Holes.' It came in a wrapped package from Amazon, and had a little card on it and everything.
How lovely to get a book I wasn't expecting in the post, when I almost never get interesting post and it's generally only bills from the Inland Revenue saying I owe them �290.00 in N.I. from 1998. (How? How? How can I possibly owe them anything from 1998, I'd just had a baby. I wasn't WORKING. My country was supposed to be supporting me, providing me with income from all the tax I'd paid already, not secretly charging me for being a full time mother. And how can they get away with sending me a letter 5 YEARS LATER telling me about it? This country, Jesus.)
Anyway. Now I have this lovely book, which I am desperate to read, but which I can't because I'm only a third of the way through Brick Lane and I can't start a new book when I haven't finished the one I'm reading, it's just not right.
So I'm going to read and read until I get to the end of Brick Lane and I probably won't take much of it in which is a shame for Monica Ali as she probably spent a great deal of time on getting it just right.
But I'm flightly like that you see. And I do so want to start the new one.
How lovely to get a book I wasn't expecting in the post, when I almost never get interesting post and it's generally only bills from the Inland Revenue saying I owe them �290.00 in N.I. from 1998. (How? How? How can I possibly owe them anything from 1998, I'd just had a baby. I wasn't WORKING. My country was supposed to be supporting me, providing me with income from all the tax I'd paid already, not secretly charging me for being a full time mother. And how can they get away with sending me a letter 5 YEARS LATER telling me about it? This country, Jesus.)
Anyway. Now I have this lovely book, which I am desperate to read, but which I can't because I'm only a third of the way through Brick Lane and I can't start a new book when I haven't finished the one I'm reading, it's just not right.
So I'm going to read and read until I get to the end of Brick Lane and I probably won't take much of it in which is a shame for Monica Ali as she probably spent a great deal of time on getting it just right.
But I'm flightly like that you see. And I do so want to start the new one.
A book! A book in the post from my friend. It's called 'Holes.' It came in a wrapped package from Amazon, and had a little card on it and everything.
How lovely to get a book I wasn't expecting in the post, when I almost never get interesting post and it's generally only bills from the Inland Revenue saying I owe them �290.00 in N.I. from 1998. (How? How? How can I possibly owe them anything from 1998, I'd just had a baby. I wasn't WORKING. My country was supposed to be supporting me, providing me with income from all the tax I'd paid already, not secretly charging me for being a full time mother. And how can they get away with sending me a letter 5 YEARS LATER telling me about it? This country, Jesus.)
Anyway. Now I have this lovely book, which I am desperate to read, but which I can't because I'm only a third of the way through Brick Lane and I can't start a new book when I haven't finished the one I'm reading, it's just not right.
So I'm going to read and read until I get to the end of Brick Lane and I probably won't take much of it in which is a shame for Monica Ali as she probably spent a great deal of time on getting it just right.
But I'm flightly like that you see. And I do so want to start the new one.
Link�Leave a comment
How lovely to get a book I wasn't expecting in the post, when I almost never get interesting post and it's generally only bills from the Inland Revenue saying I owe them �290.00 in N.I. from 1998. (How? How? How can I possibly owe them anything from 1998, I'd just had a baby. I wasn't WORKING. My country was supposed to be supporting me, providing me with income from all the tax I'd paid already, not secretly charging me for being a full time mother. And how can they get away with sending me a letter 5 YEARS LATER telling me about it? This country, Jesus.)
Anyway. Now I have this lovely book, which I am desperate to read, but which I can't because I'm only a third of the way through Brick Lane and I can't start a new book when I haven't finished the one I'm reading, it's just not right.
So I'm going to read and read until I get to the end of Brick Lane and I probably won't take much of it in which is a shame for Monica Ali as she probably spent a great deal of time on getting it just right.
But I'm flightly like that you see. And I do so want to start the new one.
Link�Leave a comment
Monday, October 13, 2003
There were people paraponting, and Chuffs playing - catching the currents for no other reason than they can, and the sky was bitter pure blue, and the air was icy finger-burning cold, and the snow was so white it hurt our eyes. And there was ash in my mouth and my hat and my hair, and in my eyelashes and in my scarf and down my top, and I cried like a hysterical child, and I loved the fact that once again I was physically touching him. And I toasted his life with a glass of ice cold Prosecco from a bottle we'd buried in the snow, and my son threw his arms up in the air and covered himself in ash and shouted as loud as he could, "Bye-bye my lovely Grandad."
And it was as perfect as it could ever have possibly been.
How many people have trekked up a mountain carrying their (heavy) father? And how many who have died get to be scattered in such a beautiful, inspiring place?
And, well. Ha, ha...at least he can't complain about the view...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)