Monday, 18 May 2009

Extravagance and sloth

What a delightfully lazy day. I got up before five this morning to let Lee out so that he could get back to Belfast and to work for ten o'clock. I wrapped up warm with my scarf, gloves and thick coat and walked him to his car to say goodbye. It was already light outside, I think it had been for a while already. After going back to bed and sleeping until ten, I got up and had my breakfast. Andy and Shiela were already in the kitchen preparing for the lunch time, boiling vegetables, making apple crumble and huge pans of cooling food were all over the counter tops. I made my tea and poured out some cereal and ate it in the snug bar with Clare.

I've been planning my trip to London tomorrow and think I finally have my journey all planned out. I'll be leaving the pub before six to walk a mile, get the bus and then three trains and another bus to reach my family at the hotel by Heathrow early enough in the morning. To congratulate myself on finding the fastest and cheapest transport option, I've been reading some 'On the Road', lying in bed with some buttered soda bread and pink champagne. I've left 'The Weepies' on repeat playing from my ipod through my speakers, such pretty songs and lyrics, and voice.

I must add a quote from 'On the Road', 'cos I just loved this...

"They rushed down the street together, digging everything in the early way they had, which later became so much sadder and perceptive and blank. But then they danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes 'Awww!'..."


Pink champagne is lovely. I've switched to some Edith Piaf while I read about her on wikipedia. I have such a short attention span. She too, is buried at Père Lachaise Cemetery, as I think is Oscar Wilde...I must google that.


Back to Jack Kerouac and an early night.

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