In the spirit of “pics or it didn’t happen”:
This weekend I was parking my car outside the house, carefully avoiding clipping the lamppost with my wing mirror when I noticed something I’d never seen before. Someone has written ‘I love you’ repeatedly, in small non-obtrusive lettering on the side of the lamppost. I’m sure it’s been there, right outside my front door, this entire time. I’m intrigued as to who wrote it, and why; were they waiting for someone by the lamppost, bored and holding a permanent marker? Did they love the person who lived in my house and want to remind them whenever they passed the lamppost to get to the front door? Was someone in the throes of a drunken love affair with the lamppost itself, as expressed in the Madness song ‘Lovestruck’?
Whyever it’s there, I’m glad it is. It’s the nicest thing a lamppost has ever said to me.
It must be time for bed when you read back through the paragraph you just wrote and see that you’ve TWICE written Shylock as …’Shcolky’.
…I received a voicemail message from Donald Duck today. It pretty much made my day.
(I realise this does not fit into the format of the blog. But it’s something that made me smile today, and I want to remember it.)
I saw something pretty great today. It was a completed Renaissance literature essay, with my name on the top of it, in my tutor’s pigeonhole. I realise this has not much to do with being in this city, but the feeling of actually accomplishing anything here is quite rare for me, so I enjoyed it. I’m quite proud of the work I did, too, so that helps!
I realise this hasn’t been the best start to my blog here; I’ve been ill for weeks and, when I’ve been well, either in Bristol or Lincolnshire!
However… on Wednesday it will be my 21st birthday! And, all being well, I will have some nice stories to tell, and photos to show. In the meantime, I’ll be keeping my eyes and ears open for interesting and beautiful and funny things happening around me; it’s actually quite important that I do it this week, as I’m so freaked out about work I really need to make that effort to see the good stuff.
Before the flu I had bronchitis, and then after the flu came tonsilitis. So I didn’t leave the house for a couple of weeks basically, and now I’m at my real home, in Lincolnshire. Loading up on vitamins.
Being stuck in bed meant that I couldn’t spend much time making myself feel good about living in Leeds, because I was spending most of my time trying to make myself feel good about eating lunch or holding a conversation.
I missed Bonfire Night, which was so annoying because that IS one of my favourite things about Leeds.
I love Bonfire Night anyway. I love being wrapped up all warm, and smelling the smoke, and cuddling someone tall and handsome (I do have someone particular in mind, I don’t just select a stranger from the crowd) whist cricking my neck as I watch the fireworks, which never cease to delight and amuse me- I’m a sucker for sparkly things, bright lights, and loud noises. I like to be dazzled.
And Bonfire Night in Leeds is really good. The park just fills up with people, and the fire itself is like a Viking funeral pyre- it’s massive and awesome. I love staring at fire. I am scared of fire, but it’s just so beautiful and mesmerising.
There’s a funfair, and as you walk around, you bump into people you know and you all hug awkwardly through the ten layers of clothing and hats and scarves you’ve had to put on to survive a November night out in Yorkshire. It does strike me as odd that a lot of girls will happily go out in winter wearing nothing but a tutu and a bra, and will walk all the way into town through the gales and rain dressed like that, as long as there’ll be dancing at the end- but on the ONE NIGHT that their destination involves a huge, hot inferno in the middle of a large crowd of people, they wear Uggs and bundle themselves up like they’re heading out into a snow drift.
Anyway, I’d consoled myself with the thought that I would at least see the fireworks from my window. Unfortunately, my view of the actual colourful explosions was obscured by a chimney on the roof of the house opposite mine. I could see the sky light up in different colours, see the smoke drifting out and down the streets, but I saw not one sparkle or flash.
I’m determined to see them next year, because last year they were quite spectacular, and the whole night just made me glad to be in Leeds. Even if I did ruin my Uggs in the mud.
These are just the embers, really. I do not exaggerate when I say that bonfire was HUGE.
How cool is it that this swing ride has a license plate? IMAGINE driving that down the M25, swings flailing, lights flashing… that freaky kid in the pink duffel coat screaming that she wants to get off…
I spent the weekend in Bristol, and was looking forward to getting this going again on my return. Unfortunately, however, this is the most beautiful thing I saw all day: (-apart from my little sister)