The Moment

Monday, June 05, 2006

A disclaimer

No blogging for a while. I'll recommence from whenever things sort themselves out.

Until then,

Friday, June 02, 2006


Struck by a revelation, I realised it must've been at least three months since I last heard from Emma. It's amazing how time can slip by so quickly and things can get left in its trail. I was, however, determined not to let this become one of those things.

Writing the email, I realised I could talk to her about absolutely everything. And I did, let the whole thing come out all about being ill and all of the boredom and everything connected. Able to talk about it to her like I'm not to anybody else.

And that was cool.


Off to the cinema with Dad, for the first time in a very long time. We used to do it quite often, but since I've been able to drive, it's been a less common thing. With me too tired to do a complete return journey to Norwich, though, Dad took me along again.

The film was crap, but that was half the fun of it, because it felt like a little bit of the past all over again. If there's one thing I can credit this illness with in a positive way, it's that it's brought me a bit closer to my family. And that has to be a good thing.

Tuesday, May 30, 2006


Being driven back from the grandparents, we drove around a corner and out of nowhere came the most delicate and fragile looking rainbow I've ever seen. Occassionally obscuring itself and reappearing against white cloud and sunglare, it was just a little piece of beauty.

Monday, May 29, 2006


Walking through town, on that rarest of occassions - a bank holiday where the sun shines - I hear running footsteps behind me. Moments later, I'm accosted by Mark and Robyn, both wearing the same nothing-changes-Hitler-Youth-shirts. First time in over a month I've seen anyone that isn't a part of the family.

That's today's moment. Knowing you aren't, actually, alone.

Sunday, May 28, 2006


Reading The Cure of Souls, an idea came to me. Homemade lemonade. Why not? Rinding lemons, and listening to the radio, and it all seemed very right. And, for once, I think I may have been completely and entirely unique in the UK at that moment.

Saturday, May 27, 2006


12:15am and feeling just about as trapped as I'd ever imagined was possible. Thinking about getting away, and about the travelling from last year. About Sarah.

Not gonna get to sleep like this - flick on the tv. The Truman Show. If there was ever a perfect film for feeling like this, that's it. He gets out, and, like every time I see it, there's a tear in my eye.

He gets out.

How did it know it had to be so perfect?

Friday, May 26, 2006


It took three days from buying to actually get it into my cd-player. With the rain pouring down out of the French windows, and things just feeling a bit calmer than usual, the first time the Unfinished Sympathy strings kick was an absolute killer. Beautiful, really.