louisa

Send her to sleep, like I’m asleep, too enjoyable

1. She’s over-excited and hot so I start to brush her. The panting slows as she calms down and within minutes, it’s replaced by the sound of gentle snoring.

2. I peer down the short road. Even though I’ve passed it every night this week on the bus (and countless times before that), it still strikes me as odd – the buildings are not unusual for around there but the dimensions and shop signs are just off, making the whole thing somewhat disconcerting – and it feels like I’m looking down a road in a strange town. I spend a lot of time looking down such mysterious roads in my dreams and it’s always slightly jarring when it happens in real life.

3. The four square ice cubes swirl in unison as I pour the cold liquid onto them. It’s terribly pleasing.

Mystery marinade, good show, cooling down

9/7/2010 / louisa / 0 Comments

1. I throw various things into the marinade and when I’m spreading it on the meat, I worry it’s too many flavours – but it isn’t. The crisp skin is salty and spicy, but more than that too – rounded, pleasantly complex. Another George’s Marvellous Medicine cooking attempt worked out well.

2. When they hold hands – something I’ve been begging them to do when the wife offers everything to make her husband happy – I nearly cheer. They — all the groups — do so well, I’m so proud.

3. Finally feeling cool again as the night air chills the sweat on my skin.

Living art, relocation, no question

8/7/2010 / louisa / 0 Comments

1. The daddy long legs, stretched out off centre on the plain blue wall, looks like an art piece.

2. She comes to get me, mid-afternoon, and tells me to sit on her sofa with her for a while. She wants to snuggle into me, to wriggle on me and get some love – and she can’t do that easily when I’m sat at my desk.

3. The instant acceptance is surprising – I help with costumes, we banter back and forth, and I get swatted with snowy tennis rackets.

She’s a funny one, damn good kids, strangely romantic moment, sleep hug

7/7/2010 / louisa / 0 Comments

1. I go down to see the chickens – to fill up their food & water and take some photos for The Really Good Life’s chicken update. The one with black flecks seems delighted to see me and is intrigued by the camera – she looks at it, peers inside at the lens snapping shut and pecks at my fingers holding it up. I laugh and laugh, then looking at the pictures I’ve taken, I laugh again.

2. We spend most of the dress rehearsal nagging them to speak clearer, add more character and please oh please learn their lines before Friday – but I make sure to single them out afterwards and thank them for the effort they’ve put in thus far. Later, with the older kids, amid stalled improvisations & funny word games, I chat to them about fake tan mishaps, bra straps and chlamydia tests in public toilets. I’m going to miss them a lot over the summer.

3. They break the hug when the bus arrives and as she turns to the door, she licks her lips. Eyes shining & cheeks flushed, he watches her as she pays and moves up the bus. She sticks her tongue out as she passes him as if freeing him to go but he stays until the bus pulls away.

4. I’m hardly wake enough to realise what Boron’s doing – positioning himself under my arm for a cuddle. In my mostly-asleep state, I shuffle around him to get comfortable and he places his head next to mine on the pillow. Like Carla last week, he’s soft like a teddy bear but purring. I like when the nights are cooler and the cats remember where the warmth is.

Spotted, nearly kisses, hen friends, up there with laughter

6/7/2010 / louisa / 0 Comments

1. I find a polka dotted feather on the ground in the woods – black with white spots. I show the boys then keep it tucked in my hand, to take it home and add it to my collection.

2. “Well, that was nearly embarrassing,” I tell one of my colleagues over IM, “the cat just stood on the “x” key and nearly sent you a row of kisses.” He laughs.

3. The chicken, the one with the black flecked neck, eats the corn from my hand – a first for Team Peach. Later, they all eat from John’s hand and the black flecked one jumps then flies up to sit on my head. I think they’re starting to like us.

4. She’s on me now, rubbing and writhing around on my wrists as I’m trying to type. Now she’s sat on the arm of the chair, looking at me, purring with her paws tucked under at the front. I reach over to tickle her head but she pushes her chin forward instead, telling me to stroke under there instead. My hands are dry & tender – swollen joint hangover from the work I did yesterday & from an assortment of nettle strings today – but the pain is temporarily relieved when I touch her smooth and refreshingly cool fur.

Dirt boobs, quick glances, looking up

5/7/2010 / louisa / 2 Comments

1. I spend most for the day grinding old paint from the metal railing and floor of our balcony. (We figure we’ll do it properly once and it shouldn’t need treating again while we’re here.) I’m covered in dust by lunchtime and for some reason, the dirt has particularly stuck in two circles over my boobs. We laugh when we notice.

2. They look to me for reassurance and I laugh and smile at the right times, like an inverse Simon Cowell.

3. Waiting at the bus stop, my mum tells me about the sunset in Southport – strangely orange over the sea. I tell her in Bingley, the sky is still blue but the clouds to the west make the hills look taller than they are. I’m sat opposite the old Bradford & Bingley building – which the giant vinyl banners tell me is now for sale or to let – and notice the neglected trellises on the upper balconies.

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