I lost my voice. I made lemon cake. I miss everybody and everything. I bought tall candles. Will you come over and sit by them while we drink a glass of wine?

London isn't lonely. I'm hanging onto the little things, like bread making, cycling on autumn days and carrot apple & ginger juice. And there are big things too, like new friends, and visiting old ones, new ideas and big stone museums. I hope things stay good for a while. I just need enough time to do everything!

I know that really, deep down, I do want to move to London next week. To talk to new people, to see nice things and exciting things, to be brave and ambitious. But it's so hard not to think it would be nicer to just stay here eating monkey nuts and listening to folk music.

Oh HEck. I'm never going to be one of those motivated, go-getting, life embracing, sunny girls. There's nothing wrong with just liking the little things, is there? I hope I can get along on this MA without forgetting about the little things, because if I can't what good will it be anyway?

I would like somebody to call me up and tell me the following things:

- work hard and keep your head down.

- I hope to see you soon

- Shut up

- Did you try the tea I sent you?

- I know exactly what you mean

And I would hang up the phone, put on some socks, tidy my desk and open the window wide, wide open to let some air in.

Bread making with fornice on a rainy Thursday! It doesn't seem much like summer these days, but the rain is calm and there are nice evenings to sit in the garden and drink coffee or beers. I wish I was calmer with life.

I've started running in the mornings. I've arranged a flat for when I move to London. I met my new flatmates for tea and pancakes in their (our!) lovely kitchen. I hope I can fit into their life of sitting around the table on late weekend mornings, while the rest of London rushes about.

A moth is knocking at the window. Hello Mr Moth, wont you come inside? Its rude to stare like that, with your head against the glass. We're all friendly here you know. We're drinking Turkish coffee and there are biscuits from Rome. The plum wine is delicious and I bet you can't hear our jazz records from way out there.

kicking up stones.

The river smells of seasalt.

The moss on the walls is soft on our palms and our knuckles.

The seagulls hang above the water on strings.

The teashop in the lane has burnt the coffee beans.

Its cold by the water and warm in the street.

The sun is streaming through my skylight and making a waterfall patterns on my wall. It's too hot in here at night.

There are strings on my playlist and nice, smooth voices. I want to go home and sit in the garden and hear the awkward clang of saucepans through the kitchen window.

On paper this year's a success. I got a first and I'm heading to the RCA. I can't help thinking I want to be going someplace else, and not on a train with a nervous ticket man. On a boat, and we're sailing it ourselves and we catch big fish with comic ease, and I'll run my fingers through the water while you row, and when it's my turn you'll eat apples and toss the cores to the fish. Do you see what I mean?

You're a maniac - by jestrune on Polyvore.com

I cannot explain how addictive this is.
Seriously.

No seriously.

I play the same songs with accurate notation. Toast makes my mouth dry. Sweeping the floors doesn't make a good home. There's nothing to be sad or mad about. Loud bars and strong cocktails and everything is as clear as cold glass.

I wonder whether starting a new year is a bit like starting a new note book, when your writing is beautiful for the first five pages and then you give up and write exactly like you always do. You always try though, don't you? This year I will:

1. Appreciate the little things
2. Tell the truth
3. Try not to go crazy before (or after) I graduate!

( moving images )

Some stories at Christmas:

You won't remember this, it was when you were very young, but you were coming to visit us the next day to pick the apples from our tree. We had so many apples that year, the tree was heaving with beautiful, red, round apples. But that night there was a big storm, and it blew all of the apples off of the tree, every one of them. They all rolled down the garden path to the kitchen door. I opened the door in the morning and there were all those red apples, sitting outside.

------

He was a brilliant student, he studied chemistry, but just after he graduated he was in a terrible car crash and broke his neck. He had to wear a big brace, attached by little metal pins either side of his head. As he was getting better there were new students graduating, who took up all of the new jobs. By the time he was better he was no longer the best in his field. Well, in compensation he was given £100,000. He took half of that money and put it away and with the rest he played the stock market. He just sits inside and makes all of this money on stocks. He's very pale now.

------

I said to her, 'what was the best Christmas you've had?' and she told me this story: When she was little her family were very poor. There was a doll in a department store that she wanted ever-so-much, but knew her parents could never afford to buy it for her. One day her mother took her to this department store to sit on Santa's knee. Of course, he said, 'and what would like for Christmas?' but she knew that she couldn't ask for the doll, when her mother would only be sad that they could never give it to her. There was a women who lived next door to her family, who was even poorer than they were, so the girl told Santa about this women, and said she would like for the women to have something to eat. The man in the santa suit was very impressed, because she was only young, and he said, 'But what would you like? If you choose anything for yourself.' And so she told him about the doll, and off he went and bought it for her.

I want to go home for a month and drink 10 pints of orange juice, and after a month I'll leave for the station and I'll wait on the wrong platform and I'll get on the wrong train. And the ticket man will say 'you're going the wrong way' and I'll say 'I know, I changed my mind.' And he'll look ever so scared, and he'll say 'But don't you know where we're headed?' and I'll say 'somewhere else, I guess.' And we'll go past circuses with dancing bears and painted acrobats and over mountains and under the sea where the monsters will chase us. And the sky will change colour and we'll fall fast asleep before we reach the last stop. And we'll dream that we're wearing bullet proof vests and the little gold guns that shoot us don't even make a sound. And the ticket man will sit at the front of the carriage and he'll watch us all sleeping and he'll look ever so scared.

Hooray for Obama!!!

I know I'm British, but we're pretty excited over here, too! And we'll bake biscuits for any occasion.
(These were for a debate held last night, which is why there are elephants too ;) )

The fireworks tonight were actually for Guy Fawkes, so happy 5th of November! A good day all around.

Long time no see, amigos!

I've been weaving with bright silk, reading lovely books and horrid books and boring books, drinking coffee, baking cakes, missing home, getting angry and renting-agencies-who-are-supposed-to-fix-the-damn-roof, watching bad tv talent contests, staring into space, drinking beers, eating chips by the harbor at 1am, playing an out of tune piano and wondering what-it-all-means-yadi-yada.

Are you having a nice time?