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The greatest thing you'll ever learn
Mar. 24th, 2005 08:09 pmIt's been a bit of a space oddity of a day, today. Getting out of bed was a significant effort, and I only did it in the end because the phone rang. It turned out to be the nice people at the travel agent, who wanted to know why on earth we hadn't picked up our documents when we're flying out on Tuesday. Tomorrow being Good Friday meant today was the last day, so I made myself wake up, take a shower and get dressed at uber-quick speed.
Then I sat around for an hour waiting for my driving instructor who did not turn up, so I watched a whole ten minues of Battlestar Galactica (I know I could type "BSG", but my fingers seem to have developed a muscle memory for the name in full) before sighing in resignation and walking out to the village. It's the same distance I walk to work, and it takes me thirty-five minutes if I walk fast. On a day like this one, with the sun out and the temperature rising and people going out to the beach, it was an actual pleasure. I do think walking anywhere in weather that isn't wet is a pleasure - thirty-five minutes is enough to listen to about eight songs, more than half an album (the Indigo Girls' Retrospective today), and I usually meet someone I know along the way to say hi to.
The village was full of people enjoying the sunshine, and on the way back I carefully stood in a specific place outside the bookshop window. Last week, Niall was cashing up at the end of the day and got the shock of his life when he realised suddenly that Paul was staring in at him, but it didn't have the same effect today in the noise and the sunlight; he waved amiably, poked Gary who waved too, and I went down to Formby station feeling a job had been well done.
Hannah and I decided to spend today not doing much at all, but I'm glad we did go out. It was beautifully sunny in Liverpool, and we walked across the city and unexpectedly found a temporary market. The city centre was full of stalls and people selling food, biscuits, cakes, pick 'n' mix (Hannah said, "Eight-year-old me would have loved that," and I merely sighed and said, "Eighteen-year-old me loves it.") scented soaps, jars of honey, bunches of dried lavender and huge amounts of roses. And they say Liverpool has no culture.
We stopped by a man selling crepes out of a van. He made them in front of us, pouring batter onto a griddle and sweeping it out into a circle, and adding chocolate, apple and cinnamon. We got different ones so we could eat each other's (I said, "We don't have to go on dates. Dates find us.") and walked back up towards Bold Street methodically getting covered in sugar. We met someone I know slightly - Jacinta - and moved on in aimlessly comfortable fashion.
There is another road that runs parallel to Bold Street, all the way up, where the Krazy House and Concert Square are (if you walk all the way down you get to Quiggins eventually) and the other day, when we were sitting looking out of the glass at Starbucks, we were photographed by a woman walking out of a gallery. Today's mission was to find the gallery and see what there was to see. There was an exhibition running, so we walked around it, and I wondered aloud if you need to get permission of people you take photgraphs of. I don't think that photo of us will appear any time soon, but I wondered.
Later, we went to Starbucks again and sat down in the big squishy couches and gossiped and were couply. They haven't thrown us out yet. In fact, I don't think anyone has really noticed; everyone is self-absorbed enough not to care. Which is good. I was talking about coming out, which I've been thinking about lately; I'm out to just about everyone I know, which makes it difficult to remember I'm not out to my own immediate family. And I'd like to be, because I don't like lying and friends-locking and worst of all, being thoughtfully non-committal. It's like a constant itch inside my head, this little voice shouting you big sell-out you.
And I had just mentioned coming out to my family, and was just beginning to talk about it when Hannah said, "There's your mother."
I really thought she was kidding at first, but she wasn't. My timing remains impeccable; my mother stepped in through the door and came to talk to us. She works in Liverpool, of course, and she was on Bold Street to go to one of the banks there, but really, the timing! Coming out could easily have become a big fat moot point right there and then.
Anyway! She talked to us, and said hello to Hannah, and went away again. We giggled about it, but I don't think I'm getting over it any time soon. Dear me. So, once I'd recovered from that, we proceeded to sit there for another hour or so before I decided I'd really better be off home, so not to make people worry. And I will now not see my girlfriend for two whole weeks, and I hate it and loathe it when girls moan about not seeing their boyfriends, but I get it now. Really, I do.
Sigh. Still, I'm looking forward to next week very much. We're going down to London on Monday and flying out on Tuesday, and it's gonna be fun. Yay. The politics geek in me is happier than a very happy thing. Talking of politics, I think that at some point before the general election, Colleen and I will have to get Hannah, Clare, Emily and Enid (and anybody else who wants to!) all sat down in one place and deliver a brief overview of British Politics Today and Why It Is Imperative That You Use Your Vote. I feel for Colleen, who is the only one of us who won't be able to vote this time.
And there is one other bit of news. Over the last week or so, my mother and I have been trying to arrange some sort of Birthday Event for Pedar, who is turning fifty this year and is decidedly ambivalent about it. We've just done it. We're taking him to Australia. Having spent hours researching and many more hours on the phone, I am extremely happy about this.
Then I sat around for an hour waiting for my driving instructor who did not turn up, so I watched a whole ten minues of Battlestar Galactica (I know I could type "BSG", but my fingers seem to have developed a muscle memory for the name in full) before sighing in resignation and walking out to the village. It's the same distance I walk to work, and it takes me thirty-five minutes if I walk fast. On a day like this one, with the sun out and the temperature rising and people going out to the beach, it was an actual pleasure. I do think walking anywhere in weather that isn't wet is a pleasure - thirty-five minutes is enough to listen to about eight songs, more than half an album (the Indigo Girls' Retrospective today), and I usually meet someone I know along the way to say hi to.
The village was full of people enjoying the sunshine, and on the way back I carefully stood in a specific place outside the bookshop window. Last week, Niall was cashing up at the end of the day and got the shock of his life when he realised suddenly that Paul was staring in at him, but it didn't have the same effect today in the noise and the sunlight; he waved amiably, poked Gary who waved too, and I went down to Formby station feeling a job had been well done.
Hannah and I decided to spend today not doing much at all, but I'm glad we did go out. It was beautifully sunny in Liverpool, and we walked across the city and unexpectedly found a temporary market. The city centre was full of stalls and people selling food, biscuits, cakes, pick 'n' mix (Hannah said, "Eight-year-old me would have loved that," and I merely sighed and said, "Eighteen-year-old me loves it.") scented soaps, jars of honey, bunches of dried lavender and huge amounts of roses. And they say Liverpool has no culture.
We stopped by a man selling crepes out of a van. He made them in front of us, pouring batter onto a griddle and sweeping it out into a circle, and adding chocolate, apple and cinnamon. We got different ones so we could eat each other's (I said, "We don't have to go on dates. Dates find us.") and walked back up towards Bold Street methodically getting covered in sugar. We met someone I know slightly - Jacinta - and moved on in aimlessly comfortable fashion.
There is another road that runs parallel to Bold Street, all the way up, where the Krazy House and Concert Square are (if you walk all the way down you get to Quiggins eventually) and the other day, when we were sitting looking out of the glass at Starbucks, we were photographed by a woman walking out of a gallery. Today's mission was to find the gallery and see what there was to see. There was an exhibition running, so we walked around it, and I wondered aloud if you need to get permission of people you take photgraphs of. I don't think that photo of us will appear any time soon, but I wondered.
Later, we went to Starbucks again and sat down in the big squishy couches and gossiped and were couply. They haven't thrown us out yet. In fact, I don't think anyone has really noticed; everyone is self-absorbed enough not to care. Which is good. I was talking about coming out, which I've been thinking about lately; I'm out to just about everyone I know, which makes it difficult to remember I'm not out to my own immediate family. And I'd like to be, because I don't like lying and friends-locking and worst of all, being thoughtfully non-committal. It's like a constant itch inside my head, this little voice shouting you big sell-out you.
And I had just mentioned coming out to my family, and was just beginning to talk about it when Hannah said, "There's your mother."
I really thought she was kidding at first, but she wasn't. My timing remains impeccable; my mother stepped in through the door and came to talk to us. She works in Liverpool, of course, and she was on Bold Street to go to one of the banks there, but really, the timing! Coming out could easily have become a big fat moot point right there and then.
Anyway! She talked to us, and said hello to Hannah, and went away again. We giggled about it, but I don't think I'm getting over it any time soon. Dear me. So, once I'd recovered from that, we proceeded to sit there for another hour or so before I decided I'd really better be off home, so not to make people worry. And I will now not see my girlfriend for two whole weeks, and I hate it and loathe it when girls moan about not seeing their boyfriends, but I get it now. Really, I do.
Sigh. Still, I'm looking forward to next week very much. We're going down to London on Monday and flying out on Tuesday, and it's gonna be fun. Yay. The politics geek in me is happier than a very happy thing. Talking of politics, I think that at some point before the general election, Colleen and I will have to get Hannah, Clare, Emily and Enid (and anybody else who wants to!) all sat down in one place and deliver a brief overview of British Politics Today and Why It Is Imperative That You Use Your Vote. I feel for Colleen, who is the only one of us who won't be able to vote this time.
And there is one other bit of news. Over the last week or so, my mother and I have been trying to arrange some sort of Birthday Event for Pedar, who is turning fifty this year and is decidedly ambivalent about it. We've just done it. We're taking him to Australia. Having spent hours researching and many more hours on the phone, I am extremely happy about this.
