Nupur

Just got off the phone to Nupur. She sounded... well, off-colour. I, the ever-considerate elder sister, asked her what was wrong.
"Tired," she said. Shoot no wonder. It was eight o'clock on a Sunday morning. "Why're you up so early?" I asked.
"Geeta Mandal," she said.
"Right," sayeth I. It's the local temple, and the family figure greatly in its administration, so they do have to turn up for all the functions.
"I never get to sleep in," she complained.
"Not yesterday?" I asked. "What did you do?"
"Bharat Natayam."
My, oh, my. Indian classical dance, it is. Take the uncoordinated raven out the back and shoot her.
"What did you do yesterday?" she asked, in that sniffly plaintive voice that always spells trouble where she's concerned.
"Well..." I said. "I got up at about half ten. Went into Liverpool with my friends."
"What did you do?"
"Um...." I said, a tad helplessly. What did we do? "We sat on the grass," I said. "We bought beads and made bracelets. We went to Virgin and bought CDs. Um... we went to Subway."
"Oh?" she said. Her family own a Subway franchise.
"And bought sandwiches," I continued doggedly. "And... um... we sat on the grass. Did I already say that?"
"That sounds like so much fun..." she said.
It does?
"It does?"
"I wish I could just do what I want like that."
"I'm three years older than you," I said reasonably. "You'll be able to when you're my age."
She's a smart cookie, my sister. Obviously - it's genetic. "That's not true," she said. "I can't get the train anywhere."
"Because you don't have them. Right," I agreed.
"And you could do what you wanted when you were younger," she went on, piteously.
"And you can't?"
"No! I don't even get to sleep late!"
"Nupur," I said. "You know I'm coming to see you in late June?"
"Yeah...." [Sniff, sniff]
"When I come back, why don't you come with me?"
"Really? You mean it?"
Absolutely.
"Absolutely. You can sit on the grass with me and my friends and learn how to do nothing."
"But..."
"And don't worry," - I was on a roll - "Pedar will talk your mother into it."
I put my thumb on the phone mouthpiece. "Pedar, will you do me a favour?"
"Anything you like, princess."
My mother is now assisting in the talking-her-into-it.
Somewere out there, in Indianapolis, Indiana, there is a very happy thirteen-year-old girl jumping up and down.
And she's the sweetest thing, Nupur is. I love her to tiny little pieces, not that I've ever told her that. She ought to enjoy a summer learning the elusive British-teenager art of doing fuck-all.
I've done my good deed for the day.

Domestic harmony

I am completely exhausted.
It's nine fifteen. That's really quite pathetic when you consider I got up at eleven.

Earlier, I went down to the shore. Seems silly to call it the beach, when everywhere is beach. You only have to dig down a couple of centimetres before you hit wet sand.
So, I went. Shed my shoes halfway there. Saw rabbits and squirels, climbed back over the dunes, and walked back home. Kinda thought I'd meet someone I knew, because that always happens on pretty sunny spring days when the world has ended up in Freshfield, but I didn't meet anyone. All the day trippers seem incapable of clearing up after themselves, as always. Why this is so, I don't know. They come, and pollute the place like walking incarnations of the Exxon Valdez, and never once does it occurr to them to think, "There's a bin two metres away, how 'bout I use it?"
And they leave behind such stupid stuff. Plastic bags that won't biodegrade in a million years, punctured inflatable toys kids have lost, old trainers and socks.

But apart from that, I enjoyed myself. Pleasant way to waste half an hour. Unfortunately the tide was out, understandably as it was mid-afternoon. The window's open and I can hear it coming back in now, very slowly, wave by wave, like a heartbeat. It's nice and peaceful but it doesn't help when I'm trying to stay awake.

Since I came back I've been reading Good Omens slash, for which I blame lilka and flickgc, and I watched M*A*S*H with my family in a state of domestic harmony.

So that was nice. And sad as it may seem, I think I may go to bed soon.