December 2009 – Page 5

3BT – friction, memories, touch, fluffies

8/12/2009 / louisa / 0 Comments

1. The pleasant pull of metal on skin as an earring hook slips through my lobe. A moment of consideration then a reverse tug and release. No earrings today.

2. I find something I wrote five years ago about something that happened fifteen years ago. It’s fun to re-read and reinforces my desire to (privately) document more of my memories before I forget them.

3. We walk to the supermarket hand in hand. John’s fingertips are surprisingly cold to the touch. I let go to tap the new strangely low roadsign as we walk underneath it. Our hands reconnect on the other side.

4. We’ve been at the office all day so the cats make up for lost time when we get home. Carla stretches out on my chest and I breathe through her fur while I catch-up on comics. Boron circles my legs as I cut green beans. Carbon hangs back until the blanket appears then bags a prime spot, the knee not occupied by the laptop.

3BT – wildlife and silliness

1. The squirrel returns for another nut-fest – and brings three of its friends. All four of them run wildly around the balcony, up & down the steps, over the fencing and into the elderberry tree, picking up nuts on fly-bys. We watch through the window, as intrigued as the cats.

2. In the time I’m in the post office, the horses who live next-door-but-one to us travel from one side of their soggy field to the other. They’re near the fence as I walk past, almost as if they know I have treats for them. They crunch the carrot and I stroke their damp noses. My sleeve is confused for more carrots and gets investigated by wet lips. It smells faintly of horses for the rest of the day.

3. In the evening, I go to Bingley Little Theatre to watch a play. It’s not something I would ordinarily choose to go to see but Rosemary, the director, offered me a free ticket for the first night. “It’s very silly,” she assured me every time it was mentioned and she was right: it is very silly but good-silly. The audience is a little shy at first but by the second half, they’re laughing raucously.

Last week’s Tweets (up to 2009-12-06)

6/12/2009 / louisa / 0 Comments

is watching planes land at madrid barajas airport. Weird landscape, smell of petrol. #
enjoyed this evening's episode of security theatre. back home with our favourite stinky felines now. hoorah. #
is incredibly disappointed she is going to have to put on pants and leave the house today. #
@jordiv Hi jordiv :) in reply to jordiv #
has been wading through unread email for the last two hours. I'm frightened about looking at my feedreader. #
hoped to come back from Madrid – the closest thing she's had to a holiday in nearly 4 years – feeling refreshed and raring to go. Didn't. #
watched Fast Times at Ridgement High and crocheted a pinky neckwarmer/cowl to match her new coat. No pattern, just winged it, turned out ok. #
watches a crow, far too big for the spindly branch, find balance. #
went to Coopers with Katherine after drama. There was a dog there which excited us very much and we took beer home for our respective Johns. #
unsurprised bradford's "german" xmas market might close. The markets used to be special but now they're everywhere, selling overpriced tat. #
is not having the best day so far. #
@IdleSi in a similar heroic vein, http://thejudens.com/sarah/files/2009/09/anti-gay-protesters-pwnedpic410ok.jpg in reply to IdleSi #

3BT – those glorious days, bugs & shoots, happy crimes

6/12/2009 / louisa / 0 Comments

1. I stay in bed longer than intended, re-reading ‘How I paid for college’ by Marc Acito. It’s one of my favourite books because the spirit reminds me of the best bits of my own youth – although there are less illegal antics and crazy Austrian step-mums in my story.

2. When I finally do get up, I potter in the porch. I get rid of the dead chilli plant that’s been a breeding zone for bugs for the last few weeks and note which of the houseplants have shutdown for winter. At the far end of the porch though, it’s more positive – the black seed trays are spotted with tiny green shoots, the start of next year’s harvest.

3. John keeps randomly saying how much he loves our new house/kitchen/bedroom/garden. After one such exclamation, I tell him he keep saying stuff like that. “I’m just dead happy,” he says with a smile, “is that a crime?”

3BT – only us, chicken soup, close up

5/12/2009 / louisa / 2 Comments

1. John’s still ill so instead of a day of deep-cleaning at the old house (something we’ve been putting off for a while), we spend the day in front of the stove, watching cartoons with the cats draped around us. With the curtains closed, it feels like nothing outside of the room exists – just us five here, in the sleepy warmth.

2. John requests chicken soup for lunch. All the soups we eat on a regular basis are meat-free — I learned to love soup and how to make it well when I was vegetarian, so I’m less than comfortable making meaty ones — but the creamy chicken is a welcome novelty, pure comfort food.

3. We leave some nuts out on the kitchen window sill and one of the squirrels who lives in the nearby elderberry tree pops by for a snack. We watch in silent awe as it pulls away the papery skin from the peanut and nibbles. Just inches away through the glass, we examine its solid black eyes, its fluffy white belly and the dexterity of its claws.

3BT – too tight, warm, discussion and snow

4/12/2009 / louisa / 1 Comment

carla-sunshine 0. (From last night) I always cast on too tightly, making the first row of knitting on circular needles a right pain in the arse. By comparison, the second row at the correct tension is a joy and I happily, mindlessly, knit two, purl two until the item is finished.

1. After nearly a decade in a north-facing house, the cats love that the bedroom and living room in the new house are sunny in the mornings. Even in December, the sun streaming through the window is warm enough to make them toasty to the touch. We make sure there are comfortable places to sit to make up for their years of gloominess.

2. After a lunch of manchego cheese and Iberico ham (again, our holiday lives on in the food we carried back with us), we discuss genes and memes, fire and water.

3. John’s ill so we decided on comfort food for tea: fish and chips from the great place at the end of the road. The vinegar sizzles as it hits the straight-from-the-fryer fish and the woman serving remarks that she somehow got some salt in her mouth. We joke about how she must have been throwing it everywhere for that to happen, and she adds: “I’m pretending it’s snowing. I can’t wait until it’s snowing.”

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MonthDecember 2009