So I have earned the amazing fucking post-dinner snack I am now consuming - random French mountain cheese with super-strong blackberry jam on crackers. FUCK. YES.
- Cos my stupid-fucking-alarm-sleep-cycle thing woke me up half an hour before was necessary.
- Applying for a mentally hard leadership course taking place in the Atlas Mountains, Morocco.
- This morning’s coxing was sponsored by caffeine. Beasted the novice men’s 1st eight to Hammersmith and back, screaming myself hoarse.
- Somewhat unrelatedly, am coxing Vet’s Head again.
-Jensen Ackles is a life ruiner.
- I do not get Blake. I am trying, but my suede is not wrapping itself around this happily. Don’t even get me started on Swedenborg. Possibly because of his name. And sleep deprivation.
- Saw Brendan Coyle of Downton Abbey happily chatting on a mobile phone in central London. He has a lovely gravelly laugh and was looking extremely dashing.
This has been a post.
Met my gorgeous S and her lovely daughter for coffee. Talked about writing for an hour and a half, principally her new novel, which is exciting and amazing and thought provoking and thrilling and destined for truly great things. Was remembered how much I love the creative process of writing - Jo, read your post about painting; that’s exactly how I feel about writing. Just beginning to cook up the next ‘novel’ idea that I want to hammer out - very few things more exciting.
Met Jams, an old flying friend, for din dins and then watched The Woman In Black cinematically lovely and I jumped in all the right places, but there was something missing. Daniel Radcliffe was just unbearably sweet - too young to be a father but pleasantly watchable. However, Supernatural has fucking ruined me - I kept waiting for a salt and burn. FFS.
Just remembered some leftover rage and frustration from last year, rowing-wise, as the year revolves and the whole thing is stupidly close to getting repeated. However I am a wiser, stronger, more chilled, more mature Becca and I dealt with it in a reasoned, written way, decided that I can’t’ve been the only douchebag involved, was brutal in the nicest way, and damn it felt good to get some of it off my chest.
Bottom line? I have less than a term left at university. I get to choose how I spend it, and if they don’t give me the crew I want, then I have the right to go and do something else. Write a novel. Get drunk. Go out with gentlemen. See films. Do my hair and make-up every day. Get a first. Go to the gym. Sit at home, play the guitar and sing badly.
If they give me the crew I want? Then let domination occur. Otherwise, see the above. Henley all always be there. There’s always next year, or the year after, or the year after that.
- Took 17” off a skirt from a charity store, and if I do say so myself, it looks damn good. Also my sewing/seamstress skills aren’t as awful as I expected.
- Okay so everyone was right about Lana Del Ray. Listened to Blue Jeans on a solid loop.
- Still mainlining Supernatural. I regret nothing.
Are you in Frome tomorrow…?
Woke up hungover, after an evening of getting down and funky (very much both, due to dropping codeine instead of paracetemol. Phail)
Dragged self out of bed, watched some YouTube animal gold with Finnian, and tubed it to Paddington, scarfed down S-bury’s meal deal and watched the new SPN on the train.
for all the clowns. Sam, baby, I feel your pain. Took some fujifilm instal of the pretty English countryside covered in snow.
Home, pressies - much haul, including a beautiful sheer blouse; navy, with velvet tipped collars and tassels. UO, obvs. But I do so love my mummy.
Out to dinner with le fam, at posh but beautiful restaurant in Bristol belonging to Raymond Blanc, in a converted quaker house. Saw ‘blue cheese, apple and Priest Strangler pasta’ and was all:
And it was heavenly. Dessert, shared a baked Alaska with mater and pater; essentially vanilla ice cream wrapped in alcohol soaked sponge, covered in meringue, then doused in kerosine and set alight. It was good. We followed this by a ride on the Bristol Wheel, which proved some scenic views of Primark. Home, had cake (with an AMAZING candle display, video to follow) and watched Warrior. Nearly cried. Parents cried.
All in all, a very lovely anniversary of birth. And because it’s my birthday, here is stripper!matthew.
Also appropriate, because he is a lawyer and I have just been hooked up with some BOMBASS legal work experience, with the Royal Navy. A most most most welcome birthday present.