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    British Summer Time GMT+1

    Tonight I wasn’t kicked out of a bar because of a knot of the wood on the floor.

    I met a bisexual 43 year old who hadn’t believed in non binary people til she met me

    Listen, though. That knot on the floor; and how that knot tied into the room

    I can’t remember anymore

    British Summer Time GMT+1

    Week 14, '23

    I'm roasting a chicken. I don't really want a chicken, but I have all these vintage pyrexes now and a cute apron and what else am I going to do? Yes, well. It's in the oven now and it smells delicious.

    There were a couple of eventful weekends. Several bottles of tequila disappeared inside a rabbit and I visited some bars and made some very fast friends. Entertaining, but brief. It's cute when drunk people tell you they want to keep in touch with you. Even if you tell them to their face that you know this is not going to happen, they're so damned sure… so sure. I made a date, too. But it fell through. There are flowers in a vase on a little table with some birds on it. The pub around the corner houses a robin's nest now, they've placed some old menus against a wall to protect the brooding birdy from hungry fox and kitty cats. The table with the flowers on it, I found that in the street. It's got robins and tits and metal legs. It looks like something my grandmother would have had.

    It's getting to be time to have a picnic. I'd love a good reason to buy a cute picnic basket and blanket from Selfridge's. Also a good reason to spend days corning beefs, and boiling eggs and making cucumber sandwiches.

    Well I'd better go baste. Good luck.

    ~ chee

    British Summer Time GMT+1
    it appears it's now possible to purchase and watch Lodge 49 seasons 1 and 2 through Apple TV/iTunes, and i recommend that you do so.
    British Summer Time GMT+1

    Week 13, '23

    hey babe

    OK

    i just made a lasagne in my pink daisies vintage pyrex, it's so cute. it's delicious. it's so cute. it looks so cute in its little pink outfit.

    i drank several bottles of tequila and text several unexpected characters from my former lives. several exes. currently deep in some chats with some people i honestly never thought i'd speak to again. i've learned that a lot of the things that are interesting about me are symptoms of borderline personality disorder. the week was good. it was fine. i've still been having a hard time actually getting out of the house. part of it is because i remain having very bad skin. at the moment i'm going through a whole thing where my body hair is darker than normal, and my facial skin is thinner and paler than normal. this combines in an unexpected way where i find some dark hair above my lip, try to remove it, and the removal process cuts and bleed and then leaves a moustache made of blood. that's been going on for weeks now. today i tried to even-up my eyebrows and ended up maknig them less symmetrical. I used the wrong tools. i really need a haircut.

    i got a couple of new dresses. they are adorable. i look so cute. it would be so fun if i could go outside and look cute outside. a picnic. maybe a picnic would be good.

    um… so what do you want to know? i want my money back.

    i'm actually very normal and happy.

    thanks. love u. bye

    British Summer Time GMT+1
    The first time I came to London by myself it was one week after my 19th birthday. I'd made the trip see Otway and Barrett live. It was the 19th of March. The opportunity arose for me to meet up with a girl whose diet consisted, seemingly in its entirety, of Wotsits and milk. I was charmed by this. We'd been speaking on-line, on MSN messenger. We'd met on MySpace when I'd made the effort to send her a very long message explaining that I liked her straw hat and we'd hit it off. We met up at Victoria train station and she sprayed my greasy hair with coconut Batiste on a concrete staircase. We never made it to the show, never made it out of hotel. She was kind to me. I met her parents. I met her dog, who was dying of cancer. That's when i learned dogs could get cancer. I met her friends, I was awkward around her friends. We saw each other a few more times. In train stations, bus stations, hotel rooms, and bread and breakfasts, toilet cubicles, a field of daffodils beside Three Bridges I've never seen again, and Croydon and Carlisle and Regent's Park where I lay my head on her lap and she squeezed blackheads on my forehead til they popped. Later on we broke each other's hearts.