Friday, November 12, 2010
I found this image on a site called 'Lesbians North London.' Cult series within the lezzer communities must be rife.
It's averaging about 2 degrees at night at the moment.
Have told my mum (who arrives this weekend! I haven't see her in four months, so this is tremendously exciting. I get to feel like a child again, and reap some maternal loving), to bring everything she basically owns that's wool.
I've been niggling to the Brit about how cold it has suddenly become for about a month now.
And finally last night, with a mist diaspora coming out his mouth, "It's fucking Baltic."
When he says it's Baltic, then rest assured it's more than a little nippy outside.
Which brings me to my next point: I have [re]discovered the joy of Twin Peaks. David Lynch at his very best.
I walked into HMV the other day and came across a deluxe gold box set of all the Twin Peaks movie and series for only 30 squid.
I am now happier than a carnivore being locked in a room with Lady Gaga in her meat outfit.
The scenery of misty woods, fir trees, and characters that are completely fucked up, it's heaven. Although last night, I got scared and slept with my bedroom door open and asked my flatmates to talk to me through the walls so that I wouldn't freak out.
"Guys? Are you there?"
"Yes Peas. We're still here."
"Ah good. Hi."
Something else a little scary happened last night too. I was on a runaway train.
A tree had fallen on the tracks, but no one had really made this known. So when I thought I was on my way to get acupuncture by my favourite inaudible Chinese herbalist - Dr Hong - in Wimbledon, I was in fact on a train to Leighton Buzzard.
That is a place. Leighton Buzzard is a place. Actual.
It wouldn't stop, the train wouldn't stop.
Panic stations. After coasting through the night, while the chick over the loudspeaker said, "This train will only stop in [pause] Leighton Buzzard, due to debris on the tracks," I thought:
Why would a train NOT stop when there is...debris on the tracks?
The logic defies me.
Got out, haggled, and promptly lost the will to live. How does one find one's way home when one doesn't know when one is?
Three hours round-trip later, I got into bed with Twin Peaks.
And my mum and auntie arrive tomorrow. Yay!