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As I was walking to work today, I decided there was something I wanted to write about. I’ve forgotten what it was now. Was it the dream I had last night about two rabid badgers (my subconscious response to recent debates over whether the poor little blighters should be culled)? Was it a thoughtful conversation on the state of medical testing in North-West London (complete with bulky references to the ‘Elephant Man’ currently, and mysteriously, lying in a hospital ward after a bad reaction to a medical test)? No. It wasn’t. I remember now. It was about daffodils, and their happy little trumpet noses, and how their bright little petals make even the gloomiest try-hard-British-Spring day seem lovely. Everyone has them here, and I mean everyone. If you have a pot plant, chances are that some daffodils are now sprouting out of it. They cram into planter-boxes like youthful blondes at a Sugababes concert, dipping and weaving around each other to get seen. No, that sells my poor little daffodils short. They’d never be seen at a Sugababes concert!! So daffodils are like squirrels; they remind me where I am and what time of year it’s supposed to be. It’s still quite chilly here, despite being over halfway through the first month of Spring. I find myself often braver than most Brits; I’ll happily wear a thin t-shirt and a skirt about the office, but a lot of other women hear complain it’s cold all the time. I’ve never felt the cold as a readily as I feel the hot, so this doesn’t surprise me too much. It’s been mostly blue skies today, as well.
James and I have booked our bus tickets and our accommodation for our Easter weekend in Bath. I can’t wait to see more of Britain; London is fabulous, but it’s not quaint, and I’m craving a wee bit of quaintness right now. A couple of a hedgehogs, some little old ladies proferring tea and scones, and a farmer named Hamish who tips his hat at me as I pass. Is this so much to ask? I missed Bath last time I was in London (I’ve been told we went past the township, and spent the night in a manor house, where my brother and I watched ‘Pulp Fiction’ on TV. I remembered the Pulp Fiction part, not the fact that it was near Bath). We’re planning on taking a torch and going looking for crazy British animals. And cats. I honestly cannot believe how much I miss having a cat. I think about it every day, how much I want one again. James and I are hoping to eventually be able to get our own place, mainly for the cat factor, but also so that rather than paying off someone else’s rent, we’re paying off our own mortgage. And, after conversion, buying a place in outer London isn’t much more expensive than buying a place in inner Perth! It just ends up being a better investment in the long run, because you get better rent from it. We’ll see how we go with our savings first.
Aside from that, nothing much is happening at the moment. James and I went and saw ‘The Proposition’ on Saturday night with Mike and Roger (new housemates). It was an outstanding film; I’m thrilled I got to see it at the cinemas, even if it was six months after the Australian release. Such exquisite timing, and a powerful, poetic idea. Not to mentioning a rollicking good action flick in its own right! The next day, we went for a walk to Hammersmith, a couple of suburbs away. The skies were clear, and the walk there was lovely. The walk back we were a little drunk after spending the afternoon in a pub watching the football. And then the weekend was over! Far too quickly. James’ birthday is not this Saturday but the Saturday after as well, so we’re having friends over for drinks (Mike and Roger are inviting friends too, so we’ll get to meet their crowd as well).

This entry was posted on Wednesday, March 22nd, 2006 at 7:27 am and is filed under Journal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.