'' (Don't let it blow your mind away) Baby!
(And go into your little hideaway 'cause white lines blow away)''
Encouraged recently to do a random act of kindness, I found myself obliviously buying some phone credit for a total stranger. Punching Romeo's phone number into the machine I accidentally pressed one wrong digit and the kindness was easily transmitted. It made me happy to think that some unknown recipient could phone their loved ones on behalf of my ineptness. Romeo didn't share the joy. Well, it is his hard earned money I'm randomly yet kindly frittering away.
Extracting my toast from the toaster one morning I gasp in amused delight to see a semi-melted white plastic fork stuck to my piece of pain de Campagne? It was a surreal breakfast that would have no doubt inspired Salvador Dali. Obviously I didn't eat the spoon.
My blog continues to help me filter out all this crazy stuff whizzing around in my head and hopefully leaves me clearer in mind to write the novel. I think I am about half way there now. According to my research, a novel is between 60,000 and 80,000 words long. I have written 25,000 words so far. Maybe it will be a shorter novel than normal, a novella perhaps. This brings up the age old question, does size really matter?
Does it have to be as long as the others? How can I force it to be something it's not? If you don't like it grab another one that satisfies. Or just pretend it's OK for the sake of friendship. You could even decide to abstain. Although if you do give it a go, hopefully, it will stir up something inside you and you may actually enjoy it once you get into it. This paragraph was written by Susie Saunders and her Double Entendres, sister of Finbarr from Viz.
It was relaxing having my left arm and hand decorated with henna at the Dukhan Women's Association event. According to Amal, I have a cute hand. Going with the flow earlier that day I had painted my middle fingernail orange. My first thought the next day was how much better my henna hand would look with all my fingernails painted a brighter orange. The Dior polish, colour coded Riviera 537, was a kind gift from my 'tres gentil' French sister-in-law. Whilst shaking the bottle frantically, it suddenly flew out of my henna hand and smashed against the cream coloured bedroom wall, creating a wonderful luminous orange, Jackson Pollock effect. I immediately went into panic mode running around trying to locate the baby wipes, useful in such emergencies. Upon finding them, I smudged and smeared the splatters even more artistically onto the wall. Declaring disaster at the top of my voice I got absolutely no response at all from the kids. Good job Romeo was at another Saturday morning art class, he does not cope well with liquid leakages of any kind (read an old post entitled Up and Downs from 2012 for evidence of this). I wonder what he will return home with this time, a dozen delicately made, hand painted red ceramic roses?
The pan scourer and Jif Summer Fresh Actifizz combination worked as well as it could, even removing some of the cream canvas wall paint beneath it. This all took place before my first cup of tea. Thankfully the overwhelming nail polish fumes provided a great stimulant, fusing wonderfully with the ever lingering presence of Olbas Oil and freshly applied pungent henna. I breathed in deeply ready to face the day ahead.
'' (Ahhh) Higher baby,
(Ahhh) Get higher, baby!
(Ahhh) Get higher, baby!
And don't ever come down! (Freebase!)''
Listening to Thirst for Romance (2007) a debut album by Bolton band, Cherry Ghost.
Singing along to People Help The People and Mathematics, two of my favourite tracks from the above album.
Reading, The Brightest Star in the Sky by Marian Keyes.
Am I too old for break dancing now?
Lyrics are from White Lines (Don't, Don't Do It, 1983) by Grandmaster Flash and Melle Mel
Sprüngli
ReplyDeletenow you can copy and paste
(I have a Hungarian keyboard with all the exciting dots and accents :))
Oooh, thanks so much lovely Eszter.
DeleteLove and hugs to you all xx