The past 2 weeks

[squirmelia]

There's creme de cacao in the vanilla diet coke,
and manchester tarts on the floor.

There's waiting for e-mails and phonecalls,
and wanting to go out.
There's drinking at the pub that is yellow and blue,
and watching people walk by.
There's a workmate who's quit, who I've never met before,
that stops me in the street.
There's looking at tarpaulin, wondering who is underneath.
There's Near Dark, and pretending to be a pirate.
There's getting in a taxi, and ending up at the Dungeon.
There's the chatter of girls, swapping gossip and phone-numbers
and dancing, lost in the music.
There's new people and also people you've rediscovered.
There's having fun, lots of fun.
There's a hangover, and there's a train.
There's a village where I used to live.
There's fields with new houses being built on them,
and magical woods full of bluebells.
There's my nan and my mum and my brother and my dad,
and my room with a hole in the ceiling.
There's my guitar, and a bit of strumming.
There's my books, and a bit of page-flicking.
There's some spods and a BBQ out in the sun.
There's some cats and sitting around,
and watching a monitor.
There's Rhinos and indie music.
There's leaving early, because it's not to your taste.
There's carrying a plant around town in a saucepan
and finding sweating buildings.
There's taking photos.
There's seeing the film Le Souffle.
There's Nexus on a Saturday night.
There's moshing and drinking.
There's meeting people from LiveJournal.
There's a hangover and unexpected happenings.
There's pizza at Chambers,
and ginger ale and Eerie, Indiana.
There's Dash-X.
There's the Royal Order of Corn.
There's speaking Japanese.
There's meeting on the bridge,
and searching for flowers in the park.
There's drinking at Goblets,
and then there's the frying of flowers,
and eating them, eating them.

There's more that happened that I just can't remember.

And then it's Thursday again.