Dear July, three & four: snapshots.

Dear July,

Yesterday was: waking up to sun, eating apples in the garden, painted toenails, driving in the heat with the air con up and the windows down justacrack (because, as I still haven’t shaken my insect phobia, I've pledged an oath to myself ‘to never – not even on the three sweltering days Scotland has in the year – open the car windows wider than a pinkie’s width while driving’ – because if a wasp flew in, I would surely die). It was sun on my shoulders, and buskers by the library, and sunglasses reflecting steeples. A conversation that wound up and down and around a hill and in and out of city streets. It was promenading Shakespeare in the park, bumping shoulders with close-packed play-watchers, laughter and ridiculous disguises and then holding-our-breath silence (the city beyond the park gates humming) as the play took a turn from the comic to tragic – ‘Worthies, away! the scene begins to cloud’.

Today was: waking up to rain smattering in the gutter outside my window and then gushing through the roof onto the floor of our sitting room, my dad running down the stairs to grab the recycling bin in lieu of a bucket to catch the water (the perils of having an old house). It was a leaf stuck to the kitchen window, and the opening lines from Don Paterson’s 'Rain' in my head:

I love all films that start with rain:
rain, braiding a windowpane
or darkening a hung-out dress
or streaming down her upturned face...

It was frying sausages, and looking through Pinterest recipes, and smashing digestive biscuits with a rolling pin to make a cheesecake crust. Taco salad, and talking with my Mum on the sofa, and folding laundry (‘Life is really just a series of washing the dishes and folding pants, isn’t it?’ ‘Mmm. Daily rituals...’). Hearing fireworks outside and thinking of my American friends dotted about the globe. Reading some literary theory and realising that, after avoiding him for years, I may need to take a look at Derrida. Listening to Bon Iver with the slow cooker bubbling in the next room.

♥

Yesterday’s poem: Lamium by Louise Gluck. Today’s: Margaret Atwood’s The Moment.

Pictures by: Me Suk Lee.

a day at the festival.

I had the weekend off work, so on Saturday decided to take a trip through to Edinburgh with my parents for the Fringe festival. There's such an amazing carnival-like atmosphere in the city just now (much helped on Saturday by the sun who graced us with her gleaming presence)! 

With all the colour and excitement, it seemed a good excuse to bring out my ‘proper’ camera. I’m still at a loss how to work all the buttons so I have the settings at ‘auto’ most of the time. But the pictures turned out quite good nevertheless so I thought I'd pop a few on here.

We went to see three plays (one: The Seussification of a Midsummer Night’s Dream which was just what it sounds like: Shakespeare as told through Dr. Seuss language. I laughed quite a lot. Two: Starchild: the Little Prince Reborn – an original adaptation of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s The Little Prince. Also really good, and quite beautiful in parts. It just took a moment to get over my surprise that the story was told via interpretive dance...

And three: The Great Gatsby – it was an impulse decision to go and see this after we were handed a flyer by a girl in 20’s costume who was perched on the shoulders of a guy in a suit. It turned out to be quite spectacular). My favourite parts of the day were probably the in-between bits when we walked around the streets – especially up and down the Royal Mile – seeing and taking pictures of (and with*) the street performers. 

At one point in the afternoon, my mum and I were stopped by a leaflet-hander-outer who tried to encourage us to come along to her 'very funny play about sex-education in schools'. After speaking to us for a moment, she glanced at me, and then leaned closer to my mum to reassure her, 

'It'll be suitable for your daughter. Don't worry.' 

I did feel the need to tell her I am 23 ('actually'). Ha! My shortness and baby-face continually lead to people thinking I'm about 14 years old. It's supposedly a good thing (so people keep telling me. Being on the receiving end of a lot of semi-patronising remarks though, I'm not so sure). 

Later on I decided to embrace my 'youthfulness' and buy a wreath of flowers for my hair from a lady who had loads of them hooped up her arms. Why not, eh? Might as well.

*At another point, this girl (with the gloves) swept past me in the street. Following close behind were seven others laughing and dressed in elegant gowns and suits. Curiosity sparked, I decided to follow them, pushing through the crowd to see what they were advertising. A few moments later, they stopped in the middle of the street to get their picture taken. I still don't know what show they were in (it was their last day anyway, apparently)... but they looked beautiful. And when they said: 'Who wants to come in the picture?' I thought again: 'Hey, why not?' So that's how I ended up photo-bombing their picture.  

Love this. Only in Edinburgh...

Mm, a jolly nice day. For visitors to Scotland, the last few weeks must have been pretty amazing. It’s been wonderfully sunny. And warm – I’ve gone without my coat for almost a full month (currently sitting with a hot water bottle though. The chilliness is back). And so much has been happening: the Fringe, the Edinburgh International Book Festival, and the Commonwealth Games in Glasgow (which I didn’t watch too much of, not being sporty in the least. But the happenings on the streets while I was walking to university were fun to see: magicians, face-painters, swing dancing, jazz bands, etc.). 

Ah, it is a pretty cool place to live. Just a pity that most of the time it’s still represented (and represents itself) as Tartan, Haggis and Bagpipes ‘r’ Us.

♥

"a romantic wee ballet"

Last Thursday, my sister and I met up in Glasgow in the evening for an impromptu trip to see the Scottish Ballet’s performance of Matthew Bourne’s Highland Fling. It was fantastic: funny, rock and roll, beautiful, horrible, clever, engaging, very tartan (a whole bundle of adjectives all at once). I always like going to the theatre (expensive though it may be) and over the past few years (and really since forever... since reading Noel Streatfeild) I’ve become particularly enraptured with ballet. 

Not the old fashioned sort (i.e. the ballets full of stiff tutus and tight tights, punctuated by lots of look-we’re-very-clever-because-we-can-do-twenty-piroutettes-in-one-go moments). I’m more interested in ballets which use dance as a story-telling medium; the ones which let slip prettiness for expressiveness, precision for fluidity, tradition for narrative drive. The ones I love are less like self-conscious dancing and more like plays without words. 

My favourites so far have been the Scottish Ballet’s Romeo and Juliet, Alice, and Matthew Bourne’s Sleeping Beauty (which we went to see for my Mum’s birthday in February, and I think it’s probably one of the best things I’ve ever seen in a theatre. Full stop. So beautiful... and exciting).

♥

(Picture from: here)

noticings through instagram.

In the midst of all the busyness, I've been trying to capture life through snapshots. I'm saving up for a DSLR camera at the moment (they are bloomin' expensive), but there's really something to be said for a good camera on your phone. So much easier to carry about, and much more subtle. Here are few things I've been noticing recently:

 

[one.] autumn is here.

[two.] sunlight and sea through my train window. I do like to live beside the seaside.

 

 

[three.] the first train ticket of the semester (this is my last year as an undergraduate ...which is kind of terrifying. Fourth year, so far, has been a return to form though. Looking forward to the rest of the year!)

 

[four.] editing the Strathclyde Telegraph is well under way. The Fresher's edition has already been published, Issue One is out this week, and I'm writing, gathering and editing Issue Two at the moment!

 

[five.] After about six years in one of the smallest rooms in the house, I've moved (into my sister's old room). Much warmer, brighter, and bigger.

 

 

[six.] me at the Theatre Royal reviewing a Scottish Ballet performance for the paper.

 

[seven, eight, and nine.] Trying to notice beauty in the autumn weather. A rainbow at the station...

 

...blue sky in a puddle...

 

...mist on my train journey.

 

 

(Also... I realised that I forgot to mention earlier on here that the literary magazine, Octavius, that included my short story has now been published. It has been since August, in fact!

 

Quite exciting to see my own words in print!)

 

♥

 

birthday noticings

A few things I spotted on my (twenty-first) birthday last week:

[one.] Stars and candles on the breakfast table. (Birthday breakfasts are always a big thing in my family. Menu this year: orange juice, granola with vanilla yoghurt and berries, roll and sausage with or without brown sauce, numerous cups of tea ...or coffee, if you so desired.)

[two.] A flower box in Glasgow's west end. If I ever live in France (somewhat unlikely as I don't speak the language, but who knows! I might just marry a French man and learn it) then I will have a window box of red geraniums. If I never get round to living in France, I'd still quite like the window box.

[three.] A photograph at the Oran Mor (where we went for 'A Play, a Pie, and a Pint') with this underneath. I was taught by Louise Welsh in first year. She marked my very first official short story (a somewhat melodramatic - but lovely to write - tale about a circus elephant and true love).



[four.] Another house spotted just outside the Botanic Gardens (I'd like to have lots of potted plants leading up to my door at some point in my life, as well as the window box... maybe even in the same house. I just need to get over my bee-phobia).

[five.] A self-help book in the Oxfam bookshop with Smiles as the author (very suitable sir name). Unfortunately I was too busy taking a picture of 'Smiles' that I didn't notice the book of essays by C.S. Lewis sitting beside him until I got home and looked at this picture. Drat!

[six.] A devilish looking Ford sign (I'm learning how to drive in a Ford by the way. It took me four lessons to learn this information myself. Turns out when you start driving lessons everyone likes to ask: 'So what kind of car does your instructor have?' Not the kind of information I pay attention to. 'Em... a blue one?')

[seven.] You know your 'little' brother, is not so 'little' anymore when he is quite a bit taller than your mother. 

[eight.] These daisies were in my Gran's garden. I agree with Kathleen Kelly in You've Got Mail that daisies are the friendliest flower.

[nine.] Possibly the largest apple pie I have ever seen in my life.