J’ai pris mon fameux bus pour rentrer du sport hier … Oui petite parenthèse, je me suis réinscrit au sport hier … Bon grande parenthèse, finalement, Une partie de mes anciens camarades sportifs étaient là, dont Marie …

Marie est une belle hôtesse de l’air de notre belle compagnie nationale dans la trentaine … Une nana qui a quand même eu le courage de me dire qu’elle me gardait “sous le coude” quand je lui ai demandé pourquoi elle passait son temps à faire un pas en avant puis un en arrière avec moi …

Donc, après les 2h de sport, nous avons bu un verre avec quelques co-sueurs dont Marie … Elle s’est naturellement placé à côté de moi … Nous avons parlé de mon séjour Maroc et des petits détails amusants / choquants de ce séjour… J’ai profité de ce moment où elle a posé sa tête sur mon épaule gauche …

Notre “relation” est dangereuse … Nous avons flirté plusieurs fois ensemble avec un plaisir partagé non dissimulé … Nous n’avons jamais couché ensemble, ce qui donne un sentiment “inaccompli” … Il y a de grande chance, qu’un jour, nous achevions ce que nous avons commencé !

Enfin bon, voilà pour la grande parenthèse … C’était pas le but de cet article

J’en reviens au cœur de l’article, à savoir mon retour en bus ! Et là, pour une fois, je ne vais pas vous parler d’échanges de regards avec une belle plante ou un beau mâle (pourquoi pas !) mais d’enfants …

Un groupe de parents a investi le bus avec une ribambelle de gamins … En moins de temps qu’il ne faut pour le dire, je me suis retrouvé entouré de plusieurs gosses qui se battaient, qui rigolaient, qui jouaient, qui s’émerveillaient aussi … Le plus vieux devait avoir 6 ans …. Ils étaient tous super mignons, ces petits d’hommes ! Bon, ok, ils étaient super bruyants … Et du coup, une vieille conne qui lisait son Elle Magazine à forte intelligence ajoutée se retournait toutes les 2 minutes pour lancer des regards “fusillants” en direction des gosses et des parents !

Elle a même pris son courage à 2 mains et a demandé à l’aîné de faire moins de bruit … Il a tenu 5 minutes et a recommencé à foutre le bordel … La vieille n’en pouvait plus … Et moi, je kiffais … Bon, ça aurait été un peu plus kiffant avec un poil moins de bruit mais au final, ce sont des gosses ! Ca sert à quoi de responsabiliser si tôt des gamins … Ils choperont des responsabilités bien assez tôt et pour toute une vie !

Donc, les morveux … Si vous me lisez, 2 choses :
- Déjà, c’est que le logiciel de contrôle parental de papa ne marche pas et qu’il faut le changer
- Ensuite, continuez de foutre le bordel, de vous amuser et de faire chier / rire les grands !

Kissesssss

• mārie

  1. (stative) be peaceful, quiet, fortunate, appeased.
  2. (verb) to abate.

• pō mārie

  good night – a modern usage not used by some native speakers.

• ata mārie!

  good morning!

Hoe lastig de voorbije maanden waren… Doodmoe en onwaarschijnlijke uitdager van een kind… Veel rust was mij niet gegund.

En hoe content wij nu zijn… Vermoeidheid zo goed als verdwenen (mag wel nu we onszelf halverwege mogen noemen)… En onze onvermoeibare uitdager blijft uitdagen, maar heeft intussen ook leren gehoorzamen! (Enkel naar de mama en papa weliswaar…). Haar en ons leven ziet er momenteel dus vooral zo uit:

Het is een leesbeest. Terwijl moeder een boek ligt te lezen in de zetel zoekt Marie (Awie) ook een boek (boe) en wurmt zich dan vakkundig tussen mama’s boek en mama’s gezicht, òp toekomstige broer of zus (maar dat kan moeder slecht verdragen) en zoekt naar al de prentjes die ze kent.

Ze verdiept zich in de anatomie van de mens. Dat verdiepen mag u letterlijk nemen. Het is echt schrikken als je ineens de kreet NEUJ! hoort en tergelijkertijd een petieterig kleine doch verrassend lange vinger zich een weg langs je linkerneusgat richting hersenen boort. En nog kan je haar geen ongelijk geven. Het is inderdaad mijn neus. Idem voor oo, ootj, mo, bui, oetje en teetjes.

Die zelfde anatomie kleed ze graag aan met zoveel mogelijk stof. Niet gelijk in welke volgorde natuurlijk. Eerst de tousen, dan de boe, vervolgens de sjiet en de vè. En alles wat ze dan nog vindt, moet ook aan. Ze negeert daarbij volkomen dat ze de zweetklieren van haar vader heeft. Het enigste waar ze het niet erg op begrepen heeft is nog steeds de pape (pamper). Maar dat is alleen maar omdat ze het potje nog niet kent, vrees ik.

Ordnung muss sein. (deze alinea geldt niet voor haar speelgoed). Het tafelblad van haar stoel moet proper zijn, kruimels allerhande worden weggeveegd, en korsten die toch niet zullen opgegeten worden worden zo ver mogelijk de keukentafel op gegooid. Geef het kind een doek, en ze kuist een kwartier aan een stuk je salontafel, helaas niet zonder elke twee minuten haar neus er eerst eens in te snuiten. 2 vliegen in één klap, vindt ze.

‘nee’ is één van de lievelingswoorden. Marie, eet je boterham op! Nee, koek! Marie, gaan we een speldje in je haar steken? Nee! Maat moeder is gelukkig zo slim van niet veel vragen te stellen. Oja, en ‘koek’ is ook één van haar lievelingswoorden. Alles is koek, olijven, chips, chocolade, brood dat er niet uitziet als brood (dat gebeurt hier soms), alleen koekoek, dat is geen koek. Dat is ‘oi’ (vogel). Gelukkig maar.

Zot van beesten. Ze kent de weg naar huis vanbuiten. Ze weet achter welke hoek ze kan beginnen roepen : Koei! Koei! Koei! Koei! (x 10.000) en na welke bocht : Paa! Paa! Paa! Paa! Paa! (x5.000, want er zijn meer koeien dan paarden). Ik heb haar bewust nog niet verteld waar ze de schapen kan zien. En thuis is Momijn (Piet Konijn, de knuffel) haar beste vriend, ze neemt er gemakkelijk een half uur voor om momijn te soigneren met een schotelvod. Ik begrijp niet wat ze ermee doet maar Momijn ziet er gelukkig uit, dus moei ik er mij niet mee.

Verkeersopvoeding is al bezig, al is het op heel basaal niveau. Auto! Auto! Auto! Auto! (x30.000, gelukkig weet ze nog niet wat fijn stof is) en de auto doet tuuttuut! (Weet ze niet van mij, want ik moet zou al eens moeten zoeken voor mijn claxon). En ze weet wat de politie doet. “oweeoweeoweeoweeoooo” (u leest het, ik ben vriendelijk gebleven, ik had ze heel andere dingen kunnen leren). En we wonen hier nog altijd op den buiten, dus ze kent ook een tactr. en een fie. Een brommer niet, want die krijgt ze toch niet.

Ik kan hier nog 20 alinea’s uit mijn mouw schudden, maar ik stop ermee. Eigenlijk wou ik alleen maar zeggen, dat dat kind een zegen geweest is, van bij de geboorte, en ik nooit had geloofd dat het zo een geestige, contente en gezonde mie zou blijven. Wij durven niet hopen dat kind 2 ons hetzelfde gemak zal brengen. Ik bereid mij in stilte voor op het omgekeerde. We zullen wel zien. Eerst nog die 20 weken met kleren voor zwellende vrouwen doorspartelen.

Doel:

Nora haar drie tutjes laten afgeven aan de Sint zodat de Sint de tutjes aan de beebietjes kan geven die geen tutjes hebben en veel wenen…

Voorbereiding:

De Sintkalender (met dank aan Maaike en Mme Zsazsa): een succes! Ze vond het geweldig om een “kruisje” te tekenen als de dag voorbij was.
Het boekje ‘Anna gooit haar tutjes weg’ van Kathleen Amant. Vorige week aangeschaft en ze heeft toch wel twee keer het verhaaltje willen lezen… Ik denk dat ze het een beetje te confronterend vond. Ze werd er alleszins niet enthousiaster op om haar tutjes af te geven, het klonk eerder van “Mijn tutjes moeten hierblijven, mama, niet voor de beebietjes”. Maar het hielp wel om haar toch een beetje te overtuigen en voor te bereiden. Hoop ik.

Methode:

Gisteren mocht ze voor de eerste keer haar schoentje zetten (aangezien de Sint en zijn pieten gisteren met de boot in Ninove gearriveerd zijn, later meer hierover) en één van haar tutjes erbij leggen. In ruil voor haar opoffering kreeg ze uiteraard een cadeautje en chocola en snoepjes. En eeuwige dankbaarheid van de Sint wegens het opnieuw blij maken van die arme bloedjes van beebies zonder tutje.
Haar tweede tutje mag ze ofwel afgeven aan de Sint die op bezoek komt op papa zijn werk, ofwel mag ze op 5 december twee tutjes (in plaats van één) bij haar schoentje leggen.

Resultaat:

Nora was vooral onder de indruk van de brief, geschreven door Sinterklaas zelf *, waarin uiteraard stond dat ze heel flink was dat ze haar tutje wegschonk en dat ze nu geen tutjes meer nodig heeft omdat ze nu de knuffel Noukie heeft (ze is gek op dat vreselijk belerend kinderprogramma van Noukie…) om mee te slapen. En het lijkt te werken. Nora en Noukie zijn al onafscheidelijk en ze is duidelijk apetrots.
Marie was vooral onder de indruk van de chocola.

Benieuwd hoe blij en enthousiast ze nog zal zijn na het definitieve afscheid van haar derde en laatste tutje…

* Wij De Sint en Zwarte Piet hadden niet goed opgeruimd en hadden het doosje met de krijtjes en de twee krijtjes waarmee ze de brieven schreven, laten rondslingeren en niet terug op zijn plaats gelegd. En grappig dat Nora dat vond, niet te doen

Leuk detail: bij het vorige Sint bezoek was het Nora die de poezenpyama van Marie nog droeg. Ze worden groot, ‘ons maskes’!

Bloggen undergår måske lidt forandring de næste dage, da jeg sidder lidt og arbejder med layouttet, samtidigt har jeg valgt at den nye header bliver (tak for jeres oppinions, ville stadig have været i tvivl hvis det ikke var for jer!) .. Det bliver dog ikke det helt stor, der bliver bare ændret på nogle farver osv .. Men selvom jeg bruger alt min tid på det skal i da lige have smidt et Ugens Outfit i nakken alligevel . Det er denne uge med Marie fra AFashionTale . Marie er en af de tøser der yntes hun mangler farver i sin garderobe, men jeg syntes hun rocker de subtile farver rigtigt godt, og jeg er helt igennem vild med hendes stil . Jeg er rendt ind i hende et par gange til forskellige bloggerevents, og hun er da bare en af de sødeste piger i verden .

Marie fra AFashiontale

På billedet bærer Marie en kjole fra Whyred, en Cardigan fra Rick Owens, Smykker fra Fashionology.nl, og Støvler fra Topshop

Jeg syntes simpelthen det er så sjældent at man falder over en tøs med gennemgående fed stil, ligemeget hvad hun tager på, men Marie er en af de få . Jeg er overdrevet vild med hendes stil og hvis jeg var en pige ville jeg nok vælge at være hende!

Jeg har som altid stillet Marie 7 små spørgsmål der kommer her!

• Hvor bor du?

Jeg bor i en lille 2 værelses lejlighed på Vesterbro.

• Hvad er din yndlingsforretning?

Jeg finder altid noget jeg vil have hos Paristexas, Acne og Whyred. Og så elsker jeg Topshop, Cos, H&M, Zara og Weekday ligesom alle andre.

• Hvad køber du for at forkæle dig selv?

Takeaway fra Cofoco og ansigtsbehandlinger hos Amazing Space.

• Hvad er dit yndlingstøjstykke/accesorie?

Jeg elsker mine Camilla Skovgaard wedges. De er superhøje, men ligeså behagelige at gå i som et par sneakers. No kidding!

• Hvad er din “fetisch”?

Neglelak – sidst jeg talte havde over 70. Flest fra Chanel, Essie og Uslu Airlines. Det sjove er, at jeg sjældent går med neglelak. Det ikke så sjove er at regne sammen, hvad de har kostet mig…

• Hvad er dit dummeste køb?

Det gør ondt at sige det, men det er nok desværre min pink  og alt for dyre Stella McCartney buksedragt som jeg købte for et par år siden. Har haft den på 2 gange – det siger vist alt.

• Hvilken sang hører du mest for tiden?

Lady Don’t Fall Backwards fra Peter Dohertys album Grace/Wastelands. Faktisk står hele albummet på repeat. Det minder mig om min kæreste, der i øjeblikket arbejder som arkitekt i Bruxelles.

00315.0000 MARIE

Marie, the dawn is breaking,
Marie, we’ll soon be waking
To find our hearts are aching,
And tears will fall when you recall
The moon in all its splendor,
Your kiss, so very tender, the words,
Will you surrender to me, my Marie.

Denne uka har jeg ikke blogga i det hele : O Men det har ikke skjedd så mye heller egentlig. Jeg kan dønn seriøst ikke huske hva som skjedde på mandag, det står helt stille, men på tirsdag var jeg hos Håkon en tur, og fikk hilst på mora og hunden hans : ) På onsdag var det jo som vanlig Røde Kors, hvor vi så smått begynte å planlegge et fotoprosjekt. Etterpå lekte jeg med Anahita og Håkon, men så måtte Anahita gå, og dermed ble det bare meg og Håkon igjen. Vi lekte litt til, helt til han fikk vondt i hånda  x]  I går kom BJ og Odd Arne en til Vanse, og jeg lekte ei lita stund med de før de for til Adina, og jeg til Hege : ) Jeg og Hege prata om alt og ingenting, før vi møtte Ine og joina henne med en røyk. Så blei jeg henta -.-’ Og idag så var det meningen at jeg skulle gjøre emg klar til bursdag hos Marie, men selvsagt blei jeg sjuk  “/. Jeg kommer meg kanskje ut til Marie, men da trenger jeg ei stor dose med overbevisning til mamma.

Uansett, blogges! : )

Woo, I’m signed in again.  What a pain in the arse that has become since they monkeyed with the front page.  Anyway, in the name of just getting a post in, I present another piece of my personal collection.  Not only that, but today is special.  This is one of my most very favorite pieces of my personal collection.  It comes from my first trade with Marie from A Cardboard Problem and in recent times the Upper Deck Blog.  Anyway, I never actually got around to posting the trade I don’t think, but I did scan it all.  And now I present one of the coolest cards I’ve ever laid eyes on, the main event of what Marie sent those many moons ago:

Sportscaster!

How cool is that?  It’s a 2004 Leaf Sportscaster card #ed to either /20 or /40 (don’t feel like messing with teh ginormo binder to find out for sure, will edit it to the right number when I do get around to messing with it).  The reason this is so cool, is that back when Beckett was still to some degree relevant to me, these cards caught my eye for some reason.  Maybe it was the name, or the rarity, but for some reason, their entry in the price guide I was always curious about.  I would always stop on it when I’d, um, leaf through the thing.

I never thought I’d actually own one though.  I had never consistently collected baseball, it didn’t become my #1 until I discovered the card blogs at the beginning of 2008 (yep, I’m not quite an original, but I’ve been around since pretty early on, first starting my blog around March of last year, only got six posts in before giving up until several months later when I deleted the old posts and started from scratch), and I’m not sure I even had access to whatever Donruss brand they came in anyway, and definitely not if they were hobby exclusive.  There hasn’t been a card shop around here since around the turn of the milliniem.  And they were pretty rare, to me at least.  I still don’t know exactly how hard to come by they were, but I figured it was beyond my realm of luck.  I never pulled anything #ed that low until 2005.

Anyway, yes, this is one of the most awesome cards I own, not just because of it’s inherent awesomeness, that it’s pretty rare and features one of the greatest of all time, but because there is a debatably interesting story behind it.  There is a reason, that I can’t adequately explain, for me to have been drawn to it, to have wanted it, even though I didn’t quite understand what it was, and it came to me as a total surprise.

All I wonder about now, is what magic Marie has up her sleeve for round two, if we ever get around to finishing this second trade…

Oh, and Sooz, I need your address.  I’m still waiting to find out what exactly I need to send to Marie, but all your cards have been ready to go for awhile.

…

Then again, I guess there’s no hurry.  I’m pretty much broke till December, so I can’t send it till then anyway.  Meh, just send ya addy whenever.  I’m going to sleep.  This post took way longer than intended (they always do…).  Peace, love, and fighting spirit!

~Akron Hammer.  Huh?

“My parents died when I was three, I’ve been around foster homes ever since then,” Lucy looked out the window and across the carpark. I’m not sure what had caught her attention, but she was clearly enthralled by it, for the moment at least, and I could do nothing but wait for her to return to this plane.

She shook her head suddenly, and rubbed at her eyes, then turned to me.

“Sorry, I thought I saw something,” she glanced quickly out the window again, but whatever she thought she had seen was now gone. She blinked owlishly, as though trying to clear her sight, and continued with her story.

“I was never anywhere for long. Apparently I scared all the other children I was with. And the last time they put me in care, where there weren’t any other kids, he turned out to be not the kind of person that should be looking after young girls.” Lucy picked up her spoon and started to attack her ice-cream with gusto. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought that Lucy had never been given ice-cream before.

“Not very often, anyway,” she spoke through the dessert. “And never anything other than vanilla. I’ve never had cookies and cream ice-cream before,” she continued to shovel spoon after spoon into her mouth, hardly pausing for breath. I looked at her, a little shocked, but tried to cover it. She shrugged at me, and licked the last of the ice-cream off the spoon.

“You’re wondering how I knew that was what you were thinking.” She wasn’t asking me if that was what I was wondering, she was making it a fact, and again my mouth opened in surprise.

“I don’t know how I know. It’s just that sometimes I can hear what other people are thinking.”

“All the time?”

“Nope, just sometimes, and only some people.” She looked around for the waiter, and waved him over. “Can I please have another bowl of ice-cream?” she asked him, opening the menu again to the list of flavours available.

He nodded and took out his notepad.

“Umm… I think I’ll go with the macadamia nut this time around,” she stated, although I was fairly sure that she didn’t actually know what a macadamia nut was. It was just the next flavour down from cookies and cream.

As the waiter turned to put in her order, she turned on me. “I do so know what macadamias are. One of the foster families I lived with in Queensland had a macadamia farm, and we used to go hunting at night for the ones that had fallen off the trees. It was the only time we were ever allowed to eat them.” She sat back in the chair and crossed her arms over her chest, huffing a little bit, indignant. I smiled, because in that moment, she was a little girl, not the rough and angst ridden teen she was most of the time.

“Have you ever really been happy, Lucy?” I asked quietly, surprising myself at the question. I hadn’t thought it, it had just popped out of my mouth. She took a moment, to collect her memories, I thought, and then answered me cautiously, as though I might try to take away the few joyous moments she treasured.

“When I was at my third home, they had a cat. Her name was Marmalade, although I never could figure out why, she was as black as tar,” she smiled then, and her face lit up. I tried to hold onto that for her, and stayed quiet while she told me her story. “The first house, and the second one as well, they’d had pets there too, but those pets would never come near me. Dogs, cats, even the bunny rabbit was scared. I’d just pretended I didn’t like animals anyway, but I couldn’t figure out why the dogs would always growl at me, and the hackles on the cats would rise, and they would hiss. One of the cats at the first house used to turn and run away, fast as he could, whenever I walked into the room. Only time he ever did that, he’d jump on everyone else’s lap.” The waiter returned then, with Lucy’s ice-cream, and placed it in front of her. She thanked him, and then started to dig into it. I ordered another coffee and waited for Lucy to resume talking.

“Anyway, Marmalade was the only cat who would come near me, not exactly friendly, mind you, but at least she was never scared of me. Or she pretended not to be anyway.”

“Why do you think that was?”

Lucy shrugged, her brow creased. “Don’t know. The neighbour said it was because Marmalade wasn’t a real cat, she was the devil incarnate. I didn’t know what she meant by that at the time, I was only 7, but now that I think about it, she might have been right.”

I raised my eyebrows, hoping for further explanation on this, but Lucy ws momentarily distracted by her ice-cream. At least now I knew how to get the girl talking. It had taken me nearly two weeks to get her to say this much after our first meeting, and I found myself desperately wanting to know more about her every time I saw her. At night, once I’d left the hospital, I dreamed about her, and I had woken on several mornings swearing that she had been beside me in the bed. I had thought I was going crazy, and the sleep medication hadn’t been helping, but the more I learned about Lucy, the more I realised that it was quite possibly a part of her that was coming home with me.

She started to slow down her ice-cream intake, pausing to enjoy each macadamia she came across in the soft cream. I watched her, curious about this young girl who knew so little, and yet seemed so old beyond her years that it was a stark contrast, and a shock, when she asked questions I felt she should have known the answers too. At some point in her foster care, she had discovered Google, most likely while she was at school, and I knew that her immediate response to anything she didn’t understand was to turn to it. Knowing the perils in what Google could provide, I wasn’t entirely sure that this was the best educator for her, and had attempted to adequately provide any answer I could, to the best of my abilities if she asked.

“Do you think there’s an afterlife?” she suddenly asked.

“I’m not sure, Lucy. I’d like to believe that we go somewhere better when we die, but I’m not entirely convinced that it’s an ‘afterlife’,” I didn’t think now was the best time to get into the philosophical debate that had been raging for centuries, especially when I was more interested in her story about Marmalade the devil cat. She must have sensed my reluctance to discuss this further, and instead continued to tell me about the black cat.

“Marmalade used to wait for you, she’d sit just on the other side of the doorway, and as soon as you walked past, she’d stick out her paw and go for your ankles. If you were really unlucky, she’d latch on and bite down, real hard, then just run off, like it was some great big joke.
          “She hated the telephone as well, big time. Whenever it rang, she’d go nuts, chasing after you as you went to answer it, and trying to jump onto your back. Her hackles would all raise up about ten seconds before the phone would ring. Usually that would give you enough time to grab her and throw her outside, so you wouldn’t be killed when you picked up the phone, but she soon learnt how to open the door, and as soon as you’d closed it, she’d be back in the room. As soon as you picked up the phone though, she’d settle down and go back to what she was doing, which was usually sleeping.” Lucy shrugged again, and I caught the ghost of a smile lingering in her eyes.

“Marmalade made me laugh, and she’d always sleep on the end of my bed. Although if I ever knocked into her, she’d eat my toes, but she was the closest thing I ever had that loved me.” The smile faded, and Lucy turned back to her ice-cream, scooping the bowl clean with her finger. I looked at her again, trying to see past the hard exterior. It wasn’t hard when she was with me, though, and I’d like to think that she was comfortable in my company. I liked her, she had some spunk, and while she wasn’t exactly endearing in a cute young lady type of way, there was definitely something about her that made you take notice.

“You’re nice to me,” she responded to my unspoken comments. “And you do make me feel comfortable, not like I’m some freak, which is how everyone else treats me. I know I’m a little strange, and that I have a tendency to spook people out, but I’m just as normal as the next person, I swear it.” Her eyes had widened, and although she spoke with the attitude of someone reciting her catechisms, I felt as though, secretly, she was pleading with me to believe her. There was so much more to this girl than she would ever let on, and I so desperately wanted to know as much as I could.

“How did your parents die?” Again, the question had popped from my mouth before I had actually thought it, and I put my hand out to hers. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. If you don’t want to talk about it…”

“Nah, that’s cool. I actually know the answer to that, anyway, and you’ll find out sooner or later.” She picked up the spoon and started to twirl it through her fingers, and I was amazed at her dexterity. The ice-cream was finished, and I wondered if she would order anymore. I opened the menu for her again.

“We were out walking one night, and this huge storm just kinda came out of no where. It had been hot that day, I don’t know what the temperature was, but I know it was real hot. I was only wearing my knickers, and I remember dad had one of those dorky hats with the battery operated fan. Mum had this beautiful Oriental paper fan – it was massive. She’d never let me play with it, and I remember her yelling awful loud at me the one time I’d ever tried to. I think it was a present from someone, but I don’t know who.
          “Anyway, this storm started to roll in, and it was mostly lightening to start with, but there was a bit of thunder. Mum started singing, she had the most amazing voice, and then I remember dad screaming. I could smell burning, it took years for me to get that stench out of my nose, and I know I was only young, but, still. Even now when I smell burning I sometimes get a fright. There was this huge crash of thunder, so loud that I could hear buzzing in my ears, and then all I remember is this immense pain. It was unlike anything I’ve ever known, I don’t even know how to describe it. After that, I woke up in the hospital, and there were all these nurses, and my grandma, and she was crying. Wailing, more like. I don’t know how I knew, but I did, that mum and dad were dead, and that I probably should be too, but somehow I wasn’t. The doctors called it a miracle, but I’m not too sure. There hasn’t been anything too miraculous about my life since then.”

“Why didn’t you stay with your grandmother?” I was shocked that the only blood relation Lucy had left hadn’t taken her in.

“I did, for a while. But one night, after I’d been with her for about a month, she came into my room with an axe, and started to swing it about. Apparently I just sat there, in my cot, and watched her. The neighbours found her the next morning, and she’d cut off her own head.” I gasped, but Lucy had delivered this gruesome part of her story with a straight face and an even voice. It didn’t seem to bother her that this was not a natural way for a woman to have died, or that even her behaviour was normal.

“They told me after, that she’d been sick for a long time. Having delusions and such. They thought it was maybe a precursor to Alzheimer’s, but I know it was me. Nan had always been fine until I moved in with her.”

“Did anything like that happen at any of the other places you lived?” As horrified as I was at the way Lucy’s grandmother had perished, I was morbidly curious. This wasn’t the type of thing that happened regularly, and you certainly never heard about it in the news. Lucy shook her head, and for a moment I was disappointed. But, I quickly berated myself, and tried to hide the thought, lest Lucy pick up on it.

“There was this one time, at my sixth home. One of the other kids there had a pet mouse, and I hated it. He used to let it just roam around the bedroom, and for some weird reason, it used to like to sleep in my shoe. I’d wake up every morning, go to put on my sneakers, and out would pop this little mouse, scaring the daylights out of me. I swear you could see it laughing at me. If anyone was a devil it was this mouse,” she paused for a moment, and took a swig of her water. “Anyway, we came home one afternoon from school, and there was this mouse on the bedroom floor, it’s stomach split open and it’s guts trailing across the boards.”

“That could have been a cat?” I suggested. Lucy’s face had taken on a haunted look, and there appeared to be a great deal of guilt and shame hanging over her.

“I know that. That’s what everyone said. But the thing is, the night before, I’d had a dream about killing that mouse, about splitting it open and cleaning it out. Just getting rid of it in the most horrible of ways. I can’t help but think that maybe it died because I wanted it to.”

“I don’t think anyone has the power to do that, Lucy. Positive thinking doesn’t work quite that way.” I leaned over and took Lucy’s hand in mind. She looked devastated, and I was sorry I’d asked about it. I tried to think of something light to change the conversation when she glanced up at me quickly, her eyes bright.
“I’d like to think so too, but I’d be kidding myself if I thought that was the case.” She snatched her hand out of mine. “I’m haunted, let’s just face that reality.” She turned quickly then, out of her chair and leaned over to give me a hug. The edge of her shirt rode up past the waist of her jeans, and I was shocked to see the skin of her back ridged and raw. I grabbed the edge of her shirt, and pulling it down, hugged her back, but she’d noticed that I’d tried to cover her up. She turned away from me, and pulled the shirt all the way up. The waiter noticed, and gave me a glare, but there was no one else in the restaurant by this stage, so I pretended not to notice.

Lucy, holding her shirt up, turned a slow circle in front of me, and I came face to face with the reason it had taken her so long to get rid of the burning scent from her memory. The skin across her stomach and her back was red and scarred, but it was smooth in most places, the scarlet hue blending into the dark almond colour the rest of her body was. One spot, just above her left hip, and mostly on her back, was rippled and puckered, and the skin there was drier than anywhere else. I reached out to touch it, to run my fingers across the ruined skin, but pulled back at the last moment. I stared, knowing that I shouldn’t, but unable to stop.

Lucy dropped her shirt and turned to look at me. She tilted her head a bit to the right, then to the left, waiting for me to say something. I didn’t know where to begin.

“You were struck by lightening?” I asked, slowly coming to the realisation that this was what had killed her parents. She nodded. “My god, Lucy, how on earth did you survive that?”

She shrugged, again, and I noticed that when she did that, the temperature around her changed. It was suddenly much warmer than it was before, but it was fleeting. I thought back to while she was eating the ice-cream, every time she’d shrugged, she’d scooped it in quicker, because it would start to melt. Whatever it was that happened when Lucy shrugged, she was aware of it.

“Like I said, the doctors said it was a miracle.”

“But you don’t believe them?”

“I’m not Harry Potter. My parents didn’t die to save me, they just died. I got struck by the same bolt, I was in a metal pusher. There’s no way I should have survived. But I did. And no one can figure it out.” Lucy took a deep breath, preparing to impart with me information that I didn’t think she’d told anyone else before. “Do you know what a doppelganger is?” she asked, one eyebrow raised. I nodded. “Well, I think mine is attached to me, like a retarded guardian angel or something.”

I almost laughed, but managed to stop myself before I hurt Lucy’s feelings. Her voice had quieted to a whisper, and she had leaned in close to share this confidence. I didn’t want to break her trust.

“What makes you think that?”

“Something saved me from dying that day. But it wasn’t something good. And it wasn’t entirely evil either, because if it was, more stuff like what happened to Nan would follow me.
         “But, Marie, I see ghosts. Everywhere. And animals don’t like me. Most people get ‘this feeling’ about me. Kids don’t want to come near me. Sometimes when I look at myself in the mirror, it’s like there’s something floating around, just behind me. When I turn to see what it is, it’s gone, but I feel that. Like someone’s just walked out of a room and left the door open. And when I shrug… Don’t tell me you didn’t notice that.”

I glanced across at her. She had spent so much time on her own, lonely and alienated. I didn’t know whether or not this was just her imagination, coming up with a way of dealing with being excluded by society, or if this was the only explanation that she could find. Either way, when she had started to speak, there was a stillness that had come over the room, and it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

I had goosebumps across my arms, and I shivered slightly, before regaining my composure.

“Lucy, surely this is just some…”

“Some what, Marie? Some game you think I’m playing?” She looked at me then, with disgust. I’d just betrayed her trust. “Never mind, I thought you, of all people, might understand and take me seriously. But you’re just like every other adult,” she shook her head, and grabbed her bag. “Thanks for the ice-cream.” She said, and then she left.

“Lucy! Come on, I was just…” But she’d gone.

I sat down last night, curled up with the heat pack (ridiculous since today’s weather reports a top of 32 degrees…) and started to write. I was actually trying to figure out who Marie was, and why Alex insists on not only staying in my story, but also turning out not to be the asshole I originally thought him to be. Instead, I discovered a little bit about Janelle, and I think I like her. She’s got spunk, and she’s certainly not afraid to voice her opinion, or to stand up for it either. I don’t think she’s too keen on Marie’s career move though… but that’s another story.

Anywho, I ended up writing 4,636 words (amazing!), and yet I’m still behind on writing (and posting) all those reviews I promised. I finished the Guernsey Literary & Potato Peel Pie Society this morning on the train, so there’s yet another one to add to the ever growing list… Perhaps I need to spend a few days writing on the train instead of reading, just until I catch up…

P.S TGL&PPPS was one of the best, and most enjoyable, novels I have read in a long time… it was quirky, funny, sad and heart-warming, and I closed the book feeling as though all those letters had been sent to me. I promise I’ll work hard over the next few days to get some reviews up!

Journo: So, tell me about the first time you met Marie?

Janelle: It was at tennis. She rocked up wearing a pink skirt, pink t-shirt, with a pink heart stencilled onto her racquet. I was playing against her, and I dropped this ball short and wide. She was standing on the baseline, and was so determined not to be beaten by that shot, that she ended up diving for it when she hit the service line. I fully thought she was going to break something, but somehow she got her racquet to the ball, flicked it back over the net and managed to win the point. Mostly because I was so amazed she’d gotten to the ball that I forgot to move for it, but still… it was a pretty amazing thing to see. The determination that woman has, for anything. She refuses to give up on anything. She never gave up on me, and for that, we’ve remained steadfast friends ever since.

Journo: And Alex?

Janelle: Couldn’t have been happier when she realised that he wasn’t the one for her. Not that I ever want to see her end up a cat lady (which she’s positive she will do), but Alex was holding her back. There’s too much for her to do in this life, and all Alex wanted her to do was be his. Don’t get me wrong, I like Alex, and he cares about her, a lot – he’d do anything for her, I know that – but she’s independent, and she needs to be with someone who will let her fly.

Journo: Lucy?

Janelle: Lucy is Lucy. She’s one of the best things to have ever happened to Marie – taught her that she can’t always do everything on her own, and that sometimes she does need help, but Lucy also taught her how to ask for that help.

Journo: That’s all?

Janelle: It’s not my place to talk about Lucy. Lucy’s a very special person, and you’d need to talk to her if you want further information.

Journo: Ok. What about the infamous episode at the Windsor?

Janelle: (laughs) I don’t know that it’s infamous… but. The first thing, I think, that anyone learns about Marie, is that you don’t mess with her food. We’d been waiting for nearly an hour before the waiter came over to take our order, and Marie tends to get a little knarcky if she has to wait. She asked the waiter if she could speak to the manager, he told her the manager was unavailable, without even going to check, and then she just got up and walked out, letting the maitre d know on her way out that she was a reviewer and they’d just failed miserably because she hadn’t even tasted the food to review it. The manager called her about an hour later, and offered all of us a meal on the Windsor the following weekend, and that he would personally serve her, just to ensure the best possible service.

Journo: And the review?

Janelle: Oh, she wrote it, and posted it on her blog. Marie has a wide group of ‘internet friends’, followers of her blog, and it didn’t take long before the story got out. The Windsor offer her a free meal once a month now.

Journo: There’s a rumour that Marie is dating Lee Harding…

Janelle: From Australian Idol?

Journo: Yes, is there any stock in that?

Janelle: Have you done your research?

Journo: Yes…

Janelle: And what do you think?

Journo: Well… there seems to be a fair few photos of Marie and Lee floating around…

Janelle: (laughs) Marie managed to start that rumour herself… part of an experiment, I think, once the media got hold of who she was.

Journo: Does Lee know about it?

Janelle: Of course he does – they’re great friends now.

Journo: I’m confused… how did this come about?

Janelle: Lee and his band play at the Stamford on Saturday nights… The Stamford just so happens to be our favourite pub… It was sheer coincidence that the first photo went up… Lee was wandering around the pub, and he bumped into Marie… she had her camera out coz we were collecting photos for another friend’s birthday, and she asked Lee if he’d mind being in a photo with us. He said he didn’t mind, and even gave her a kiss on the cheek… she posted it on her blog, as a joke, some journo looking for gossip on Lee found it and forwarded it to all the music media… Lee approached her the next weekend he saw us at the Stamford, and together they plotted to bring down the gossip mags!

Journo: So there’s nothing in it?

Janelle: Not a thing… but no one in the media has brought it up for nearly two weeks now, so it’s old news!

Journo: I just thought I’d check…

Janelle: (smiles)

Journo: So she’s on the market then?

Janelle: If you’re planning on purchasing her next manuscript, of course. If you’re referring to her relationship status, you’d have to take that up with her.

Journo: So you don’t know?

Janelle: No, I know. It’s just not my place to spill that kind of gossip about her.

Journo: Anything I can do to convince you otherwise?

Janelle: Not a chance… Marie is my best friend, and I’m not going to throw that away for my 5 minutes of fame.

Journo: Why?

Janelle: Because it’s not worth it…

Journo: No, why is Marie your best friend?

Janelle: Didn’t we cover this already?

Journo: Not quite…

Janelle: Oh… well, Marie is my best friend because she’s always been there for me, she’d drop anything to help me out, and she doesn’t spill my secrets.

Journo: Oh, ok. Well, what was your first reaction to Marie’s book?

Janelle: I’m not really sure… I live with Marie, I’d seen her writing it, I’d read bits of it, I’d talked with her about it. At some point in the writing of it, she stopped sleeping, and I think for about a month straight I went to sleep to the sound of clicking keys. I think my first reaction was “yay! Thank god she’s finally finished it!” And now she’s busy typing away at the next story… I think we need to look into soundproofing the study!

Journo: Alright then, what are your impressions of the book? Do you like it?

Janelle: I like that she finally finished it!

Journo: Come on, give me something to work with…

Janelle: Ok… I haven’t actually read the finished product yet…

Journo: You’re kidding? I thought you said you were best friends?

Janelle: Hey, I work full time, and the book was only released a week ago…

Journo: You didn’t get an advance copy?

Janelle: Marie wouldn’t let me read it…

Journo: Really?

Janelle: Yeah, she’s got a warped sense of humour… she didn’t want me to reveal the ending to anyone before it was released…

Journo: Surely you wouldn’t have done that?

Janelle: No, but journalists have a habit of not giving up when they want to know something.

Journo: Fair call… But I still want to know what you thought of it… since you’re her best friend, surely you can be honest?

Janelle: Since the book got picked up by a publisher, I don’t think my opinion counts… but from what I have read of it, I enjoyed it. Marie has a definite way with words, and she knows how to weave a story.

Journo: Ok, so when you have finished it, will you be posting a review on your blog?

Janelle: Ha! I don’t go in for blogs…

Journo: That’s not what I’d heard.

Janelle: I help out with Marie’s on occasion… give her some content…

Journo: Like trying to blow the house up?

Janelle: That only happened once!

Journo: What about the air conditioner?

Janelle: Hmmm… It’s not my fault the thing wasn’t connected properly…

Journo: So tell me about your next project…

Janelle: Aren’t you trying to get information about Marie?

Journo: Yes, but I hear you’re pretty famous within your industry?

Janelle: Flattery will get you everywhere.

Journo: (smiles)

Janelle: We’re putting together an exhibition on shoeing.

Journo: Shoeing?

Janelle: Horse shoes… their place in mythology as a good luck charm, the advances of technologies… some archaeologists in London unearthed a smith near the Tower of London, so we’ve managed to get some of the artifacts from there.

Journo: Sounds interesting…

Janelle: If you’re not interested, then don’t ask.

Journo: No, no… I’m being sincere. I just would never have thought that there would be that much interest in horse shoes.

Janelle: Among the racing and breeding fraternity you’d be surprised. Actually, the idea came from Marie’s sister.

Journo: Back to Marie…

Janelle: Isn’t that why we’re here? You don’t really want to report on an installation the Racing Museum is going to do on horse shoes?

Journo: You’re right… But I do know the arts writer pretty well… maybe I could get you an introduction?

Janelle: I know the arts writer as well, and they’ve already booked an interview time with me for tomorrow.

Journo: Ah…

Janelle: If you don’t have any more questions, I think we’re done here.

Journo: Right, I know a dismissal when I hear one. Well, thanks for your time, I think I’ve got enough to start writing.

Janelle: No problems. Enjoy the rest of your day.

—- ENDS —-

Vendredi 27/11/2009 18h

à la Cathédrale de Toulon.

Sitting in class working.
-it is a grey day again.

Though I am listening to some good music to keep me up, like this one; ‘Keep on Jumping‘.
I think that piece of music really defines my 2008 quite alot, I have so many memories connected with it for some reason. First heard it when the guys and I went playing pool in the spring, a time of happiness, adventure and experience.

“Her absense is no greater question, I wonder if she ever learnt her lesson?
She does not consider why, she does not even seem to cry, her mind is weak and dumb, her agenda primal and to some; she would be called a whore…“

This week though I have a few things to look forward to
Like on wednesday I might be going out with my old kung fu teacher for a drink, along with his Uni friends
And, on Friday, lol, my sister and I are maybe going on a ’singles evening’, a dinner/ get together for single people, just for fun.
Also, this saturday; I hope I can get together a crew and go out partying.

Had a dream last night, that I was a spokesperson for the clothes brand SuperDry
I woke myself up by uttering weird phrases like ” It’s Superdry, but also Super expensive!“.
Superdry is btw a pretty cool brand, especially because the japanese influated prints and designs along with the cool fashion.
Also, this jacket it very neat, but pricy

Im planning on making a Christmas Carol shortfilm, got the idea last night in another dream
Briefly, it is about an unhappy guy, who learns the meaning of christmas thru a series of fortunate and some misfortunate events the day before christmasday.
There will be romance, action, comedy and also sensmorale in the story, so I think the finished product will be quite interesting.
Production will begin in the middle of december, and come out in good time for christmas^^